This was a few years ago now. He’s probably forgotten what ‘me-me’ is by now. I wonder if there is a deep longing, the source of which he’s forgotten.

I’ve got one of those unexplained longings. It’s strongest after sun down. I doubt it has anything to do with my mother, but who knows? What I want, what we all want, is a deep abiding connection. To each other. To the world. Maybe the last time we felt a connection like that was at our mother’s breast.

Brain oozing out

A bit inundated lately. I feel like the guy on the right; my brain oozing out.

Still, I’m enjoying this notebook that I’ve been keeping for the 30 days of drawing. It’s longer than thirty days now. Usually I go through a notebook in less than thirty days but this one is mostly drawing. It will be on display. That’s new. My notebooks are usually quite private.

The one in the left was done while watching TV. Right hand one is from Kasia Tons’ wonderful embroidered masks. Have a look at her work on frewster.com Amazing stuff.

Ink and handmade brushes and nibs. Very yummy fun.

We’re getting to the pointy end of this process. I can’t wait to see everyone’s work on the walls.

If you’re a Facebooker (and even if you aren’t) look up Big Draw Lobethal. Some of the other participants work is up there.

Notebook pages – drawings with words

Lines from a poem by Margaret Atwood. I love her poetry.

Having a little grumble in a coffee shop.

These next two are from when we were stuck up the creek without a paddle. No, we were stuck up the river without a car, in Berri, to be precise, having run into a kangaroo, waiting for a radiator to come from Melbourne. The monument in the second one was designed by Stephen Fox and Bluey Roberts and crafted by Silvio Apponyi. It commemorates the life of  Jimmy James who was an aboriginal tracker. He is shown in the tracking pose. I find that fascinating because he is ‘reading’ the ground with his hand. I had always thought it was only visual, bent sticks, etc.

I hope the quality allows for reading.



Fellow Journal Keepers

On Sunday we had a group of students from the Centre for Creative Photography for a studio visit. It’s always fun showing people your work and getting to carry on about it a little. And if you happen to inspire someone… that is the best feeling.

I met a fellow journaler. Much more tidy and controlled than mine. Mine are all over the show, ‘like stork shit in mid air’ as my cute husband would say. (He has the best turn of phrase.)

We were mutually excited because we both cut them up to use for further art. She has pages all over their hallway at home and they used it to create a spoken word party, participants drawing words and phrases (if they wanted) to create stuff from.

Reminds me of this:

a zine made from pages from a much larger book called The Phrase Book, though not cut out like the work in Etcetera.

We shared how it feels sacrilegious cutting them up. But is worth it for the engagement of other people.

I find that journaling helps me to order my thoughts. It allows me to get them out of my head where, otherwise, they sort of rattle around collecting dust. It helps me focus on what is important to me or to nurture things that are still embryonic. Or I use it for things I don’t want to forget like these two stories from my grandkids the other day:

and just to have fun!

There is so much written about journaling these days, from psychologists’ treatises through the self-help industry, to the average Joe (me) raving on. But really, it saves my life and enlivens me.

How about you? I’d love to hear from any other avid journal keepers out there.

And if you don’t keep them your self, why don’t you give it a go? You don’t even have to keep a book. Woody Allen has a drawer where he throws bits of paper with thoughts and ideas. Apparently it’s where he goes when he feels stuck.


The Best Thing Ever (collage series)

Forgive the quality. This is my first ever video. #AbundantArtShow day 4 (I think. I’m confused)

By the way, the one giving me leaves (mentioned herein) was my granddaughter, not my daughter (who is more likely to give me dead dragonflies or skulls or lichen). Sometimes I say a completely wrong word. I have been known to say white when I mean black.

Also, here’s a link to the shop: The Shop

Callout for Artists: Words in Art Exhibition

Words in art. Word Art. Poetry (haiga for eg.). Book art. Artist Books. Altered books. Words as power objects. How words are so integrated into our experience that they are almost visceral. How we make and order our world with them. ‘In the beginning was the word’. How we also limit our perceptions with words.

Our local art space (Adelaide Hills)  is calling out for artists for a Fringe show of words in art. So if you’re in South Australia (or elsewhere in Aus) please consider showing with them. I want some good company!

Years ago I wanted to do a painting, huge, white, with just the word ‘white’ in the centre, quite small. I didn’t. These days I use words quite often because my work has shifted from huge wall pieces to smaller more ephemeral pieces.

Following is a gallery of inspiration, mostly my work because I know the copyright status. There are so many other artists’ work I’d love to include.

Come join us Folk! There will also be poetry performances. Not finalised yet, but at least one slam and some other performances.

So many possibilities!

  h.ART  also called Hills Art is the group here is their Facebook page. for details and to express interest: h.art.advocates@gmail.comh-art-callout-words-exhibition

By the way, the feral cat piece in the gallery is in tribute to ‘For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry’ from Jubilate Agno by Christopher Smart.