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Sunday Selections #33

Good Morning Internet, it is a grey and misty morning here in frogpondsrock land but it isn’t cold so that is a win.

I tried to stalk some black cockatoos that were feeding in the trees yesterday but The Spouse let the dog out at the crucial moment so all I captured was some blurry leaves and the leaves weren’t blurry in a good way either.

I am starting to find a photographic balance in the same way that I have found ceramic balance. I love the arty photos that just suggest the image as much as I love the crisp scientific photos with the subject clearly defined bang in the middle of the shot.

It is a work in progress this being an artist caper.

It is all good.

I am in the process of setting up a shop attached to the blog where I can sell my ceramics directly to you and I was wondering if you would be interested in some of my images as well?

Anyway here are my photos for this week.

Starting with some of our local yellow tailed black cockatoos. I have published these photos before but in light of yesterdays unsuccessful mission I thought I would republish them again.

I have also published this photo numerous times on the blog but it is one of my favourite photos. I don’t have any chickens anymore and so the eagles aren’t hanging around looking for an easy meal. I miss the chickens and I miss the eagles.

I was down at the River with “The Spouse” again the other day. It has been a long winter for a man that likes to be doing. We both knew that there was too much fresh water in the river for the fish to be on the bite, but it was a beautiful day. Jeff wet a line and I filmed him and then took blurry photos of seagulls. It was nice.

If you would like to join in with my Sunday Selections meme I would love to have you on board.

The Blurb.

I take a lot of photos and most of them are just sitting around in folders on my desktop not doing anything. I thought that a dedicated post once a week would be a good way to share some of these photos that otherwise wouldn’t be seen by anyone other than me.

I am also remarkably absent minded and I put photos into folders and think that I will publish them later on and then then I never do.

So I have started a photo meme that anyone can join in and play as well. The rules are so simple as to be virtually non existent.

Just add your name and URL to the Mr Linky.

Publish your photos on your blog using the “Sunday Selections” title.

Link back here to me.

Easy Peasy.

{ 18 comments }

How to tell if you are stressed.

When I am stressed I cry a lot over nothing, not big ugly heaving sobs, I save those ones for when I am in bed. I am talking about those annoying stray tears that escape when I am in the middle of a conversation and always take me unawares. The next big indicator that I am extremely stressed is when I begin to forget stuff.

I drove out to visit my daughter the other day specifically to deliver a set of ceramic cups,Von is flying to Sydney soon and had offered to hand deliver the cups for me. Halfway there I realised that I had left the cups on the studio bench. The whole point of the trip was to deliver the cups, how could I forget them?

Frustrated with myself I posted this facebook status

Drove out to visit Veronica specifically to drop off a set of ceramic cups that need to go to Sydney. Forgot to take the cups. Was given some eggs to bring home. Forgot to grab the eggs.

The sneaky aspect of stress is that I often don’t realise I am stressed at all, I just wander about the place making a mess, leaving a trail of half done jobs behind me and becoming increasingly grumpy with myself.

It wasn’t until a friend rang and commented that serious levels of forgetfulness aren’t like me at all. During the course of that conversation I started to cry small tears again because I had been slightly worried I was losing my marbles. My friend gently laughed at me and told me it was just stress.

One of the indicators of stress for me is I hide in the computer. I faff about on twitter and youtube following links to obscure news items and re-discovering forgotten songs.

This week I have been making a video. The obsessive nature of video editing and sound design perfectly suits me. I am always a bit surprised by the music I compose as I don’t particularly like synthetic beat boxy type rythms but I think it fits this short video.

How do you know when you are stressed?

{ 13 comments }

Sunday Selections #32

I went looking in the external hard drive for one of my favourite images of Amy as a toddler. Two hours later I emerged without that specific image but with these photos instead.

This is my grandmother on Christmas day 2007. It was really, really windy and Nan is trying to stop her tequila and orange from being blown out of her glass.

This next photo is of my Mum and Amy in my Mum’s kitchen. They are both enjoying being naughty as Amy isn’t allowed on the benchtops.

My daughter bouncing on the trampoline with her daughter.

And a photo of a summer sky to finish up with. I am yearning for summer I have been wearing shoes for far too long and I need to feel the earth between my toes in order to properly listen to the hum of the universe.

If you would like to join in with my Sunday Selections meme I would love to have you on board.

The Blurb.

I take a lot of photos and most of them are just sitting around in folders on my desktop not doing anything. I thought that a dedicated post once a week would be a good way to share some of these photos that  otherwise wouldn’t be seen by anyone other than me.

I am also remarkably absent minded and I put photos into folders and think  that I will publish them later on and then then I never do.

So I  have started a photo meme that anyone can join in and play as well. The rules are so simple as to be virtually non existent.

Just add your name and URL to the Mr Linky.

Publish your photos on your blog using the “Sunday Selections” title.

Link back here to me.

Easy Peasy.

 

 

{ 21 comments }

Cardboard doesn’t have any soul.

It is four am and I have been lying in bed for the past hour thinking about why I am having such trouble with my cardboard sculpture project. Once I started to organise the words into a coherent structure, the answer was obvious.

Cardboard doesn’t have any soul.

It has had the life force machined out of it, the process of  industrial refinement has removed any echo of the tree that once was there. The violence of the process has shattered the music into unrecognisable shards of sound.

Cardboard is a dead material to me. I cant hear its song.

I didn’t realise until just this minute, that is what I had been trying to do. I had been trying to listen to a song that wasn’t there. I had been trying to work intuitively with a material that was incapable of telling me what it wanted me to do.

Trying to catch a glimpse of the path has been an exhausting process. I have been incapable of true thought, the echo of nothing has been almost overwhelming and the white noise has been deafening.

My attempts to create anything have been ineffectual.

Simple solutions such as needing to cut a slot into the cardboard so that it will sit flush with the line of the railing, have been almost impossible to realize.

I have been unable to properly explain my ideas and this failure of articulation combined with my ineffectual problem solving has added to my frustrations.

But, a throw away line that I used in the class debrief at the end of yesterdays session, has coalesced into a practical solution to my problem and I think I know what I am going to make. Now that I have realised that I can’t work intuitively with cardboard, I have developed some momentum again.

And with these words gone from my head and given to you, dear internet, I am going back to bed.

{ 23 comments }

Lest We Forget.

An article written by Julian Burnside and republished with his kind permission

 

Lest we forget

It is one of the most resonant phrases in our national mythology. “Lest we forget”. We say it, or think it, on 11th November each year and on Anzac day.

But forgetting lies at the heart of this country. We have constructed a myth about ourselves which cannot survive unless we forget a number of painful truths. We draw a veil of comforting amnesia over anything which contradicts our self-image.

Since John Howard saw the votes to be had by appropriating some of Pauline Hanson’s more repellent policy ideas, boat people have been tagged “illegals”. Howard won the 2001 election on it; Abbott persists in it. Gillard and Bowen go along with it like sheep because they have still not absorbed their own rhetoric.

We forget that boat people who come here to ask for protection are not illegal in any sense – they are exercising the right which every person has in international law to seek asylum in any country they can reach.

We forget that the first white settlers in this country were true illegals: sent here by English courts for a range of criminal offences, and the soldiers sent to guard them, and the administrators who, following London’s instructions, stole the country from its original inhabitants who, if possession is nine points of the law, had the backing of 30,000 years of law to justify calling the white invaders “illegals”.

And we forget, too, the line in the second verse of our national anthem: words that might fairly be understood as reflecting the simple truth recognised by the white settlers: for those who came across the sea there are truly boundless plains to share. For refugees locked away on Christmas Island this must throw light on the frontier which delusion shares with hypocrisy.

And how many of us pause to remember how different it was for 85,000 Vietnamese boat people 30 years ago? They were resettled here swiftly and without fuss, thanks to the simple human decency which Malcolm Fraser and Ian Macphee showed, and which Abbott and Gillard so conspicuously lack. We forget how hideously we scarred Vietnam; how we showered them with Agent Orange and trashed their villages and disfigured their people. Just as we forget the effects of our collaboration in Iraq. But if we knew back then why people flee the land of their birth, we seem to have forgotten it now.

When today’s refugees wash up on our shores, Abbott and Gillard, Bowen and Morrison all speak with concern about the boat people who die in their attempt to get to safety, but their concern is utterly false. Instead of attacking the refugees directly, which is their real purpose, they attack the people smugglers instead. Because, aren’t people smugglers the worst people imaginable? They forget that Oskar Schindler was a people smuggler, and so was Dietrich Bonhoeffer. And so was Gustav Schroeder, captain of the ill-fated MS St Louis which left Hamburg in May 1939 with a cargo of 900 Jews looking for help. He tried every trick in the book to land them somewhere safe, but was pushed away. He ended up putting them ashore again in Europe, and more than half of them perished in concentration camps. Abbott and Gillard forget that Captain Schroeder was a people smuggler.

They forget too that, without the help of people smugglers, refugees are left to face persecution or death at the hands of whatever tyranny threatens them. Let Gillard or Abbott say publicly that, in the same circumstances, they would not use a people smuggler if they had to.

Many recent boat people are Hazaras from Afghanistan. They are targetted ruthlessly by the Taliban, who are bent on ethnic cleansing. The Hazara population of Afghanistan has halved over the past decade, as Hazaras escape or are killed. The Taliban want to get rid of all of them. Gillard and Bowen have overlooked, it seems, that we are locked in mortal combat with the Taliban; they have forgotten that our enemy’s enemy is likely our friend.

The Malaysian Solution provoked another bout of amnesia. Both major parties have forgotten the spectacular cost to taxpayers of trafficking people to other countries, whether it is Malaysia or Nauru. Not to mention the pointless cruelty of it all.

The Malaysian Solution swung into action in early August, when about 50 Afghan asylum seekers arrived at Christmas Island. There were 15 unaccompanied children among them. Chris Bowen would not rule out sending the children to Malaysia. He apparently forgot that he is, by law, their guardian. To his credit, he looks very uncomfortable doing the dirty work, as well he might if he reflects on the speech he gave in parliament on 10 August 2006. It included this: “(boat people) are entitled to have their claims considered in Australia, and if they are granted refugee status, they are entitled to a refugee protection visa from Australia.”

Joe Hockey and Scott Morrison swung into action by criticizing the parents of the children for sending them off in the first place. They don’t seem to understand that most Hazaras can only scrape together enough money to save just one member of the family. The parents they criticize so readily have made the awful choice of risking their own lives to give their child a chance of freedom. But it seems that, these days, nothing is too grubby for the Liberal party.

So here we are: Australia in 2011. For convenience we have forgotten our origins, our good fortune, our blindness and our selfishness. In place of memory we have constructed a national myth of a generous, welcoming country, a land of new arrivals where everyone gets a fair go; a myth in which vanity fills the emptiness where the truth was forgotten.

Or perhaps it’s not a myth after all. Perhaps our national image is true, but our politicians have forgotten what it is. If we value who we are, we should remind them. Because our true character as a nation is being reshaped each day by what our politicians do in our name. Tell Canberra we are better than that, lest we forget.

{ 11 comments }

Sunday Selections #31 (with spiders)

I have included two photos of spiders in this weeks selections. They are halfway down the page so if you are phobic there is still time to click away now without seeing the spider shots.

You can thank me later.

I feel lost if I don’t have my camera with me, I have this nagging unsettled feeling that something isn’t quite right.

In the months after my mother died I lost interest in capturing any images at all and I put the camera way. It has been a slow journey back to the joyful delight that taking a kick arse image gives me.

As a ceramist I fire in oxidation and reduction. I throw, slip cast and hand build my work. I make chunky dark pots from a gravel filled clay body that will tear your hands to pieces if you are not careful and I also make delicate white slip cast cups. These contrasting styles of working make me happy

My photography is proving to be the same eclectic mix of images. I absolutely adore the sparse images I captured the other week with their blurry dreamlike quality. I also love the crisp focused photos that I take as well. I am quite interested to see where I am going with my image making and invite you to come on the journey with me.

So without further ado here are the images, closely followed by the weekly blurb. And just in case you had forgotten there are spiders ahead.

The Blurb.

I take a lot of photos and most of them are just sitting around in folders on my desktop not doing anything. I thought that a dedicated post once a week would be a good way to share some of these photos that  otherwise wouldn’t be seen by anyone other than me.

I am also remarkably absent minded and I put photos into folders and think  that I will publish them later on and then then I never do.

So I  have started a photo meme that anyone can join in and play as well. The rules are so simple as to be virtually non existent.

Just add your name and URL to the Mr Linky.

Publish your photos on your blog using the “Sunday Selections” title.

Link back here to me.

Easy Peasy.

 

 

 

{ 19 comments }

Straight lines make me cry.

Or at least they do when I come home and tell “The Spouse” about them.

Confused? Let me explain.

I have nearly finished a very short introduction to sculpture class. For the final component of this unit I need to make a sculpture out of cardboard. I have not been looking forward to the construction stage of this project at all, because I need to measure very accurately and be very precise.

Notice those keywords? Accuracy and precision?

Look how sharp and stabby those words are.

Anyway.

Yesterday I began to construct my sculpture.

Three times I measured the line I needed to cut, very carefully, super carefully in fact.

I was being accurate.

I drew a guideline on the cardboard.

I was being precise.

I had a straight edge to guide the Stanley knife.

I was being accurate and precise at the same time.

I was ready to create a freaking masterpiece, people.

But somehow I managed to cut a very, very crooked line.

Twice.

*sigh*

I am some sort of a crooked legend I am sure.

On my second attempt another student came over and gave me some help. Lelle showed me the guidelines on the cardboard which would help me keep my straight lines even straighter. I measured again, I even drew tiny little fucking dots spaced about two inches apart on those faint guidelines to make doubly and triply sure.

I spent ages being accurate and precise.

Again.

It looked straight to me. It looked like the beginning of a masterpiece

But it wasn’t.

*sigh*

Lelle checked my lines for me and they were crooked. What the fuck? So Lelle scored a line in the cardboard for me to follow, which by the way looked a bit wonky to my eye.

I stared at that fucking cardboard for about 15 minutes trying to beat it into submission with the power of my mind.

Finally I was ready to cut that fucker in half.

Yay! It was straight.

I was exhausted.

And I still had heaps more bits to make.

When I came home and was describing my cutting adventures to the spouse, I was being overly dramatic as is my wont and waving my arms about describing how only I, “Kimmy the Magnificent, Queen of the crooked” could turn a completely straight line into a curve.

And as I was turning the days frustrations into nothing more than a humourous little anecdote, I started to cry.

Just a little cry.

Straight lines are hard.

Accuracy and precision are overrated.

Cardboard is horrible

But.

I have brought a piece of cardboard home with me and”The Spouse” has said he will help me with some of the engineering design details. I will work in my studio on a table at a proper Kimmy height and I will make straight lines even if it fucking well kills me.

Either that or I will go to plan B and I will make a woven cardboard ball and glue the fucker into submission.

Stay tuned…

 

{ 23 comments }

Just keep swimming…

I spent my whole parenting life raising my children to be independent free thinkers. I raised my daughter, Veronica to be a strong feminist, not by quoting her tracts from Greer or De Beauvoir and hiding the razors, but by example. I tried to show my daughter that all you need to succeed in this life is determination and hard work and that no man or woman can tell you what you can or can not do within the bounds of the law.

My daughter has found her own path, she is marching to the beat of her own drum and is now raising her own strong willed daughter, Amy. The more my grand daughter grows into her personality the more I see myself reflected there and I am equally terrified and exhilarated.

As a child I fought the restraints of parental control every step of the way. Every single curb was met with a defiant why? Followed up with a detailed counter argument as to why I should be allowed to do exactly as I pleased. There was much wailing, gnashing of teeth and dramatic flouncing and I now know that I was an extremely difficult child to parent.

Primary school was the single most isolating and lonely place I had ever been forced to endure. High school was just an endless clash of wills, with the Catholics determined to teach me to submit and to accept without question the ridiculous notion of a virgin birth and the subservience of women to God’s law. I didn’t like to break the rules by walking out as overt rule breaking makes me extremely uncomfortable, so I just endlessly argued against everything instead.

I faked illness after illness to avoid going to school so that I could just stay home and read in peace all day. One faked illness went a little bit too far and at age twelve I had a perfectly good appendix removed. Of course I lapped up the attention a stay in hospital brings but unfortunately for me I didn’t have any more disposable organs, so that avenue of school avoidance was closed.

As my grand daughter grows up I hope like hell that I live for at least another twenty years to see her through the challenges she will face. And this is where Mum’s untimely death has left a huge hole in our lives. Mum related wholly to Veronica and was Veronica’s support person where as I relate wholly to Amy and I am of only minimal support to Veronica as I relate far to strongly to my grand daughter. I am forever looking to explain or question why Amy behaves the way she does instead of just giving my daughter my sympathetic ear.

In this life you just have to make the best of what you have and try to understand each others limitations.

I am pleased that the education system isn’t as rigid as it was in the seventies but I still worry that there are far too many children out there that are getting lost in the system. I know as I watch my daughter parent her two quirky children that they wont be swallowed up by the machine but I still fervently hope that I am around to throw a few spanners in the works just in case.

{ 17 comments }

Sunday Selections #30

In honour of post number #30 I was going to do something spectacular involving rather a lot of bells and whistles.

But

I am in Melbourne tapping this out on my iPhone and I cant find the bells and whistles App.

I also would like to apologise in advance as I don’t reckon I will be able to look at your posts until sometime tomorrow when I am home again.

The Blurb.

I take a lot of photos and most of them are just sitting around in folders on my desktop not doing anything. I thought that a dedicated post once a week would be a good way to share some of these photos that  otherwise wouldn’t be seen by anyone other than me.

I am also remarkably absent minded and I put photos into folders and think  that I will publish them later on and then then I never do.

So I  have started a photo meme that anyone can join in and play as well. The rules are so simple as to be virtually non existent.

Just add your name and URL to the Mr Linky.

Publish your photos on your blog using the “Sunday Selections” title.

Link back here to me.

Easy Peasy.

The Photos

I retrieved these photos from my archives, they were all taken with my lumix point and shoot in August 2009.


{ 11 comments }

If you give an Artist a camera…

You often end up with deliberately blurry photos.

I had a photographic epiphany yesterday.

The Spouse and I went down to the river for a bit of a fish and it was bloody freezing. The wind coming off the water was icy and I spent most of the time hiding  in the car messing about with my camera.

I was using my standard 18-200mm lens on the camera. The lens was was set to auto focus, I had zoomed the lens all the way out, whilst I was sitting in the drivers seat and focusing on the rear view mirror. I had been messing about with a series of semi obscured self portraits when I took this photo and I was immediately struck by how interesting The Spouse looked in the background of the shot.

 

 

So I took another photo through the windscreen of the car. I extended the lens all the way and  focused on the floor of the car, I then reduced the zoom a bit and took the shot. When I saw this image I nearly wet myself with excitement. I love this image. It reminds me of something but I cant remember what it is.

I spent the next hour happily experimenting with how far I could reduce the zoom before the lens clicked into focus, I also accidentally took quite a few photos of the carpet on the floor of the car. I ended up with some beautiful images that I am really really pleased with.

Once I came home and saw that the images looked as good on the computer as they did in camera, I emailed the images to my daughter and Veronica as pragmatic as ever said, Mum, “if you set your lens to manual focus you can do the same thing.”  I then felt a bit silly and thought, “of course I could have done it that way, why didnt I think of that.” *doh*

But whichever way I captured the images, the images have captured me.

{ 24 comments }