On the eve of 2009

On the eve of another new year, the mercury soars (it's blindingly hot and bright outside) and I'm shackled to the computer trying very hard to work from home and not be distracted by distractions.

On the eve of another new year, I can't help but think about the year just past, not in a reflective way, but agog at how quickly time flies and the new 2008, which, incidentally still feels new and freshly unwrapped, is soon to give way to a new 2009.

On the eve of another new year, I think about India and Nepal - already the experience feels like a long lost memory and I struggle to grasp at its tactility - and how it changed me, and how I must now remain changed and not fall back into old ways, old thoughts and old behaviours.

On the eve of another new year, I wonder why this feels like just another day. Another droll day. And the fact that nothing changes when this year flicks into the next. Perhaps I'm waiting for a miracle instead of making a miracle happen.

On the eve of another new year, I wonder if I will be bold enough to make certain decisions next year, whatever they may be.

On the eve of another new year, I am determined not to be overcome by sentimentality.

So this is Christmas

... The 25th dawns bright, with a gentle breeze, cool and fresh with the scent of greenery. It promises to be a glorious day. Don McLean crooning from the old CD player. Presents opened (that's a lot of bottles of wine!), breakfast eaten, coffees and teas drunk, and just whiling away the hours until Christmas lunch at GuyMac and Kylie's.

This has been the most relaxing start to Christmas I've had in years. There's a sedate calm about, of time passing slowly, of a day without urgencies, of events unravelling as they should, at their own pace. It's like sitting in a slow moving boat being rowed down a scenic, languid river.

Beautiful.

Brett very kindly and generously gave me a book of works by Trcka, Weston and Newton. Interesting, innovative and inspiring images - even though they were taken in the early and mid portions of the last century. I gave him a bottle of Red label Bundy. Then there's the home-made Christmas Cake from Dave's Mum, wines from Shem, Jazz, Tony, Jack and Carmel, chocolate from Nick.

Very nice.

I made a promise this morning -- that today would be brimming with positivity, with acts of kindness and compassion; that I would not dwell on any negative thought today and negative action.

And I mean to keep this promise.

Happy Christmas!

The new housemate

So I have a new housemate, who is professional photographer. You'd think that's why I'm writing this but, no... this housemate is AMAZING! Why? Because he actually tidies, cleans, clears, cooks, washes etc etc. We're having a Christmas BBQ with the photography group here at the old homestead, and he has taken it upon himself to clear out the garage (so that guests can use that as an entry), clean the bar fridge and tidy up the area.

You could have knocked me over with a feather!

So who is this outstanding personage, this housemate of housemates?

Lost

Please bear with my obsession with things Lord of the Rings (the film) a little longer.

At the end of the story, Frodo Baggins and his friends return to Hobbiton, Frodo to Bag End. He writes about how he has been changed by his long journey - that his return home hasn't been a return home for him; because he has changed and home no longer feels like home.

It feels like this for me, sometimes. Yes, I am home, and am happy to be home. But some of the details are no longer familiar and, in fact, feel discordant. Most particularly the relationships I have with certain people. I feel as if the month away has changed me in such a way that I can no longer connect with them. As a point of fact, what some of them have said, the way some of them have behaved, seem outrageously indulgent, sometimes offensive. It's as if I no longer have much in common with some people whom I regarded as friends.

What does one do in this case? Do I continue this charade of maintaining friendship with individuals whose values, beliefs and actions no longer correspond with mine? Do I let the connections I have had with them gradually attenuate and eventually fade away? Is the friendship we form with people based on more than just shared values and beliefs?

I don't have the answer.

Changes in the wind

India gives you new eyes with which to see your world.

Since returning, I've been evaluating everything in Perth against my experiences in India. After India, Perth seems insipid. Even on the Qantas flight back, the overweening courtesy shown by the stewardesses, felt alien, raw and, somehow, grotesque. The sight of local suburbanites at the shops yesterday, with their trolleys, mobile phones, summer clothing draped over overweight physiques left me with a peculiar sense of disconnection and distaste. After India, I have realised that Australia is a land of excess - where so much is available that everyone has forgotten what it is like not to have, and, thus, they complain when there is insufficient surfeit.

How can someone who is grossly obese, who is getting a living allowance from the government, and who is able to access cable television complain of being impoverished?

I've also realised that so much of what controls behaviour here (in the West) is motivated by anger and resentment. By negative emotions. I've learned that while I was trying hard not to be seduced by these emotions, I had also been party to acting and reacting from anger.

Why has India been such a valuable experience?

Because it has me thinking in a completely different way about my motivations, my call to action, my reason for being, my outlook, my values. It has placed me at odds with the values prevalent around me here in Perth - but this is a good thing, a positive thing. It's given me a different way of seeing and responding, of thinking and believing, of valuing.

How can people say that a trip to India makes one more appreciate what one has in the West?

In all honesty, it's not appreciation, but shame that runs through me when I look at the embarrassment of riches here. I see things here in Perth now that make me recoil -- because I know what reality is like in India for countless people. Perth is a false world, and its people have been raised to believe in the falseness of their lives, of their living. This vaunted "lifestyle" that we seem to value is empty - it fulfils nothing, creates nothing, results in nothing. Its misleading in its self-gratification.

I don't know what to make of these new thoughts, so I'm writing them down as a point of reference, should they lead me down another path some day.

This quiet, clean, sunny, wealthy world seems so strange to me. Even as I gradually slip back into familiar comforts, I realise that this is not "home" to which I have returned. It's another person's place, another person's home. I'm not in the skin I wore a month ago.

India bound

Only about 30 minutes to go before I head out to the airport -- destination: India. It's going to be a long journey - transiting in Singapore until about 9am tomorrow, then to Chennai, another couple of hours transit there, before Delhi, arriving about 4.15pm Delhi time. It would have taken me more than 24 hours to get from Perth to Delhi.

Feelings? Excited (to be leaving the hum drum mundanity of life/work in Perth) and apprehensive (of the great unknown... and the unabating human bustle of India). At the back of my mind, I see Pokhara in Nepal as a chill out place, a time and space to recover from the manic journey through India. We shall see how Pokhara shapes up.

The last few days have been relatively quiet and relaxed. Brett moved in a couple of nights ago to get used to the house (and cats) he is looking after while I'm away. I've enjoyed having company in the house once more. I took him for a meal at Cafe Via last night as a "thanks for house sitting", and I hope he will be ok living out here in the burbs.

Well, signing off now. Next stop: Changi Airport tonight!

83.32% prepared

Less than a week to go before India and I'm feeling relatively calm - the sort of calm that emerges because you think you have organised everything. No doubt, I'll remember something at the last minute that needs to be done, but for now, I'm calm and feeling pretty at peace with everything in the universe.

I spent today getting some clothing packed, preparing photography gear for the trip (taking the DSLR and four prime lenses) and generally taking things slowly. The last couple of weeks have been such a mad rush and I have felt so 'wired' (I suspect because of my being on Lariam, the anti-malaria tablets), that it feels so good to have some headspace to just sit back and think things through in a measured, methodical manner.

I've been lucky with the house-sitting as Bretty will be house-sitting here and minding the cats. I think it will be a good thing for both of us as he gets a change of scene and has the opportunity to have Sash visit and stay over.

I'm also taking a small compact digital camera on this trip - shooting JPEGs which will allow me to share pictures from the trip DURING the trip.

Hayfever blues

The hayfever has been horrific the last couple of days. My eyes tear and itch and their lower lids feel bloated and inflamed; the nose runs incessantly and I struggle to breath. It's plain awful. I must have caught a face full of grass pollen yesterday when I went out to hang the washing on the line.

It promises to be a warm (33C) and sunny day today. Part of me wants to head down to the beach for a dip; another part doesn't for fear of exacerbating the hayfever through further exposure to pollen. But I can't stay indoors all day, and the thought of going for a dip in the cool and crips ocean is tempting.

Sleepless in the suburbs

While I'd like to possibly blame the effect of Lariam for my very early morning wake ups, I suspect that has more to do with the numerous tasks which I have yet to organise pending this trip to India. With only 2.5 weeks to go, I'm staring down the very short barrel of a gun.

I've been asked: Why India?

That's a difficult one to answer. In all honesty, I don't have a simple and direct answer. That answer lies in a myriad of reasons, each of which isn't enough to explain the motivation to visit India for a month, but together they make a case for this journey. As briefly and succinctly as I can, they include:

• Wanting to visit a place like no other place I have visited.
• Wanting to be challenged and taken out of my comfort zones as a traveller.
• Wanting to document certain elements of India photographically (at the moment, I have yet to consolidate what these elements are)
• Wanting to be internally changed by the experience of travel in India.
• Wanting to be revived out of this mundane and comfortable routine of living in Perth.

When I feel pangs of anxiety about this trip - because, let's face it, it's going to be fairly intense and unrelaxing - I focus on the above and what I may gain from this journey.

India

India status:

• Vaccinated
• Medical kit - in progress
• Visa application - approved; visa to be collected
• Itinerary - in progress
• Accommodation - booking accommodation in Delhi soon
• Registration with Smarttraveller - pending
• Funds - TBA
• Emotional state - rollercoaster ride
• Packing - What??
  

Making plans

Things have been hectic of late, what with my trying to get things ready for opening night and organising vaccinations for the trip to India. I've hardly had time to sit down, have a glass of wine and watch a DVD, or similar "chill out" activity.

I'm progressing with the trip to India despite the volatility in the region - the bombings in Delhi and the destruction of the Mariott in Islamabad (Pakistan). At the moment, the logistics of organising the trip occupy too much of my thoughts to make me worried - though after the Delhi bombing, I did entertain second thoughts very seriously. But, I think opting out because of this would be a cop out, and I would be robbing myself of one of life's seminal experiences. All nerves and anxieties aside, I think I will return from India having had one of the more unique experiences one can have in one's life.

For now, I just need to get the vacc jabs and obtain my Visa. It's been more than the anticipated 7-10 days and I have yet to receive word from the India Visa Office. I may have to give them a call to check - but will have to call early as they do seem to get busy after 10am.

Fluctuations in the cosmos

Well, the Libs are in, Sniffer Buswell is Treasurer and Ripper is the leader of the Labor party (the Opposition). There's a sense of foreboding caused by all of this that I just cannot shake. Still, chin up, stiff upper lip and all that. Life goes on...

The PIP group seems to have endured yet another major controversy, sparked by what was perceived as a "splinter" group forming. What surprised me about all of this was how passionate people felt about "their" group and what has occurred as a result of the formation of the other group. I think it's a hallmark of a mature group when its members feel so strongly about its future. What I dislike, though, is that this passion has converted into rather biting comments being made (I assume on both sides of the divide), mostly said in jest, but still with the potential to hurt. I spoke to B about this today (he called to offer some ideas on how to manage the divergent expectations of the group from different sections of its membership) - and basically said that, at the end of the day, I felt that PIP exerted a great deal of positive influence on its membership. Where else will members happily loan one another $2000 lenses without having met the other party? Or offer to assist other members in recovering digital photographs which had been deleted from the memory card? There is a lot of generosity and kindness in the group and we shouldn't lose sight of this just because of a bit of a spat and disagreement. Case in point: Brett D came over on Saturday and helped me frame the exhibition prints. Absolute generosity! Woods for the trees. Woods for the trees.

An update on the part-time position: I am loving it. I'm keeping very busy as there have been many things I've had to organise for Chaos and Drama (bought two cases of wine for the Opening Reception today: pinot noir and verdelho), but not being bogged down 5 days a week in the office has certainly made me feel lighter, brighter and more energised. I've also stopped feeling guilty about not being at work on my non-office days, which probably helps.

Sunday's bombings in Delhi gave me second thoughts about going to India, but I have decided to proceed with this trip - I think I will regret too much if I did not go, and I would still like to travel in that country. India has had a tumultuous history and there have been frequent episodes of such violence - bombings in Ahmedabad in July, in Jaipur in May, bombs detonated in Delhi in 2005, the Mumbai bombings... if we gave such acts of terrorism credence, then we would never travel to India.

On a happier not, I'm going to Rotto with Brett D for an overnighter in early October. I hope the weather will be fine - warm even, as I'm hankering for some beach time and snorkelling!

On/off again

I've endured an on/off again bout of flu - the worst being three weeks ago when I felt like I was about to drop off the perch. After two bouts of antibiotics, I thought I was getting well, then wham! got the flu again earlier this week but am on the mend. Just a chesty cough and some infection, which I'm hoping to beat in the next few days.

I've been really enjoying my own space and my own company lately, so much so that I've deliberately stayed away from PIP social gatherings and the like. There's something comforting about just hanging out at home watching a few DVDs, reading and just catching up on "me time", instead of having to always feel as if your time must be spent in social circumstances. It's not necessarily time spent reflecting and such, more time to just do nothing and not have to worry about filling that gap. I dragged the woven mat out to the backyard late this afternoon and just lay on this patch of sunlight. Tochi cat came and lay down next to me - so endearing - and everything felt to blissful and in place.

Speaking of cats, Georgie's ear canals are infected; I have to put in these drops twice a day. Onerous as cats don't really like things inserted and then poured into their ears. The vet doesn't know what's cause the infection - she suspects ear mites but could be anything. I need to treat Georgie with the ear drops for two weeks, and make a return visit to the vet.

I've been on part-time work for three weeks now. The extra time is lovely; the penny pinching and budgeting is not, but I guess you can't have one without the other. I'm trying to keep expenses down due to the exhibition costs, but you get things such as today's vet bills and surprisingly expensive dim sum lunch with Mr Mac to deal with. The dim sun lunch blew me away - I had thought it would have worked out to be around $50 for two people, not $80. Fuck! Once the exhibition is done, I think incomings and outgoings will stabilise somewhat.

State election day today - and I was quietly confident that the Libs wouldn't make it into government. Well, surprise, as the latest reports on The West Australian's website indicate that the Libs have won the majority of seats... it boggles the mind that a party without so much as a policy or a plan, and which has been in utter disarray, may really return to power in this State. What does it say about voters in WA? Sad, sad, sad! Having said that, the West is clearly an anti-Labor paper, so their reports need to be taken with grains of salt.

Part time or copping out?

Week 2 of working part time and it feels fucking weird. I keep thinking that I need to justify my days out of the office by ensuring that I am making some kind of meaningful use of my time - usually spent in front of the computer working on exhibition organisation, printing invites etc. If I don't do that, I feel as if I'm slacking off.

I can't even wake up in the morning and have a leisurely coffee and breakfast without thinking that I need to hop on the computer and behave productively!

I think this is definitely something that will take a lot of time getting used to.

Some ideas for constructive and productive ways of spending my non-office time:

1. Join stock photo service and submit stock photos.
2. Volunteer - but what? What?
3. Sign up for Artsource and attend workshops on how to make a living as an artist.

I know that I don't want to whittle away this precious time I have... but I can't help but feel that I ought to at least spend some time doing nothing productive or constructive... like watching a DVD, or having a nap... but I can't do so without feeling guilty! I feel as if I'm opting out of being a productive member of society. Even a visit to the local shops to get groceries fills me with guilt as, everywhere around me, people are working... and I feel as if I'm copping out!

Sick of being sick

Fever dreams are weird. I couldn't settle last night despite spending more than 12 hours n bed. Kept having strange tunes running through my head while I tried to sleep. I just wish I could Zone Out and shake off this awful flu.

I've taken to watching the Olympics on TV and am often struck by the humility of the athletes who win medals. Libby Trinkett, for example, won silver in the women's swimming and yet showed nothing but humility and sportsmanship about her achievement. It's very touching, especially in light of the self-centred behaviour I have found amongst some of those I hang around. Would that more people are as ego-less as Libby.

The lurgi

I'm having the worst case of the flu I have had in a long time. Started with an itchy throat on Wednesday night and I couldn't get our of bed this morning. My body was spasming and trembling uncontrollably. Went to see the doc's and he's prescribed pretty strong antibiotics.

I've had a pretty poor record with health this year and this one tops it off. I think I've just been too busy to keep an eye on my health and general hygiene around the house, and must have caught some bug somewhere - perhaps even at work as SK had the flu last week. A late onset.

I hate this feeling of lethargy, of lack of focus, the stuffed head and general feeling like shit. It may mean I can't make the lunch date with Mandy, Corri, Dave, Jac and Kate... or Chris's 21st birthday tomorrow night. Will try and have an early night and consume medication and hope for the best.

The Beijing Doh-lympics!

Is anything about the Beijing Olympics real? It's since been revealed that the visual extravaganza of firework footprints lighting the route to the stadium are actually computer generated for telecast - and only the final footprint was the real thing. This morning, a shocked world was told that the ultra-cutesty Chinese girl who sang the "Ode to the Motherland" in the opening was, in fact, doing a Milli Vanilli - and that the original singer was not chosen to appear in the flesh because she did not fit the "correct image"

From the Yahoo news article:

Photographs of Lin in a bright red party dress were published in newspapers and websites all over the world and the official China Daily hailed her as a rising star on Tuesday.

But Chen said the girl whose voice was actually heard by the 91,000 capacity crowd at the Olympic stadium during the spectacular ceremony was in fact seven-year-old Yang Peiyi, who has a chubby face and uneven teeth.

"The reason why little Yang was not chosen to appear was because we wanted to project the right image, we were thinking about what was best for the nation," Chen said in an interview that appeared briefly on the news website Sina.com before it was apparently wiped from the Internet in China.

Lin was seen to perform the patriotic song "Ode to the Motherland" as China's national flag was carried into the stadium, a key moment in the three hour ceremony.

"The reason was for the national interest. The child on camera should be flawless in image, internal feelings, and expression," said Chen, a renowned contemporary composer and French citizen.

"Lin Miaoke is excellent in those aspects. But in terms of voice, Yang Peiyi is perfect, each member of our team agreed," he said.

He said the final decision to stage the event with Lin lip-synching to another girl's voice was taken after a senior member of China's ruling Communist Party politburo attended a rehearsal.

"He told us there was a problem that we needed to fix it, so we did," he said, without disclosing further details of the order.


God forbid that one should be slightly chubby as a 7 year old with uneven teeth - to be sidelined thus!

The credibility of the Beijing Olympics - already under a cloud (of smog?) from day one - slips further!

Baby baby

H gave birth today. Gawd, I feel so old, now that I am an uncle. The baby is very cute. Tiny, wrinkled, with skin as smooth as silk and soft baby utterances that just melt the heart. H and A have not named him yet. But, Lordy, I feel old!

Real/Unreal

What happens when the news media, which is obligated to report on factual happenstances, is co-opted by creative marketing braintrusts to cover stories which may well be fictitious and imaginary but presented as fact? Take this purported photograph of the carcass of a "monster", supposedly washed up a New York beach. The incident, reported on news.com.au, has been linked to a viral marketing campaign to promote a US cartoon series. So what the fark is it doing masquerading as a serious news article (note headlines) on news.com.au?

Clearly, the media is aware that is is no longer a trustworthy source of information, and isrevelling in the fact that all it can create, thus, are stories, regardless of validity or veracity.

Thoughts before going to bed

A little tired but feeling content. It's been raining all day and there is something quite comforting about being indoors and hearing raindrops on the roof. I'm about ready to turn in.

I was listening to 94.5 today on the drive in to work and back again. For some reason, with everything that has happened in the last few days cramping my life, there's something quite merry and relaxing about listening to nice and easy commercial radio. Perhaps because it's all so light and fluffy, so meaningless yet merry, that it cheers the spirit. Tonight, they played classic hits from television and I happily listened to the theme song from "The Greatest American Hero". It made me realise how much I missed the good old days of the 1970s and 1980s, though I suspect it's more nostalgia making those days feel "good" and "old".

I caught up with Bretty D after work today to give him a Sons of Beaches book, and ended up having a good chat with him about photography and art. It's the undeniable paradox that to create art, you must be true to yourself and create work that is meaningful to you, regardless of commercial value. Yet, to be successful in your venture and to be able to make some money out of your work so that you can continue with that venture, your work needs to have commercial value - in that, people will want to buy them. Yet, if investors buy your work to add to their collection, then they're not really making a purchase decision because they like your work - more that they perceive it as a good investment. You can't win. Perhaps art and commerce are never compatible, one always anathema to the other. I also told Brett that I felt a hypocrite, because I would like people to buy my work if they like them, yet I do not reciprocate and purchase the works I like by other artists and photographers.

The Chaos and Drama book is almost good to go. In fact, I had uploaded it to Blurb but noticed a small incident of clumsy written expression in my introduction, so I'll have to revise and re-upload. But it looks good on the Blurb preview. It feels cohesive.

Good night!

Feeling incomplete

The weekend is over and I have a fat kitten on my lap as I tap this. Will head to the warmth and comfort of bed soon.

I guess I am still reeling somewhat from the incident on Friday night - feeling very unsettled and incomplete at the moment, I suspect because there are still so many things that need to be done to fix the damage done to the car.

I dropped in to Lukey's later this afternoon to lend him the 17" flat screen monitor. While drinking green tea, we looked at his old photos, all taken on slide film. They are very, very good. I've never been much of a fan of abstract photography but Luke's images are very intriguing - they are visually appealing, but also ask to be studied more closely. He had created a mirror image of some stark spider-like trees against a lit sky - a very intricate piece which revealed animalistic organic shapes and forms the longer one examined the piece. We talked about ways of getting our works out there without having to invest on solo shows (very expensive), and submitting to group shows, competitions and awards may be one way of doing this fairly inexpensively as all you're covering is the printing and mounting of one or two prints. I think Luke's work has very high commercial value in the decorative art market.

On the news today: several bombs were detonated in Ahmedabad, in the Indian state of Gujarat (Gandhi's birthplace). Only a day ago, bombs exploded in Bangalore. A bit worrying given Paul and my plans to travel India for a month, but I suspect that these incidents tend to occur more in areas which are more politically active or skewed, eg. extreme Right, or where the Hindu vs Muslim tension is more pronounced politically. We should be okay if we avoid these regions. And from my reading, India has always expressed tensions, whether religious or political, which often reach breaking point and erupt in expressions of violence and terrorism. It seems to be a land fraught with contention and opposition.

I've also learned that Jak has found this blog. How the eff did she find it? It's not a very "findable" blog in the first place!

Scum

That awful, rank and decaying layer that floats on the surface of stagnant pools of water, reeking of all that is foul and repugnant.

The bastards who broke into my car late on Friday night in Northbridge, smashed the window, thrashed the car and stole my work laptop and a few other personal effects, thus making me spend more than half of Saturday following up with insurance, incident reports and getting the smashed windows replaced.

Scum.

I drove back to Northbridge Saturday morning and did a walking circuit around the scene of the crime, in the hopes that they may have dropped the bag in their haste or after removing the laptop, but de nada.

The incident put a dent on the weekend but I'm not going to let it ruin my weekend.

Went to help Mal Mac and Guy Mac with their stall at the Camera Fair in Leederville today. Picked up a light meter and monopod from them, and also an Cokin P-series IR filter and tripod head. Spent all the money that was supposed to last me until the end of the month though... Grrrr...

The sun's out and I feel like lounging outside in a beer garden with a pint. Damn... having no money sucks!

On Nicknames

I have a mate who hates his nickname. Problem is, I'm the culprit who gave him that nickname in the first place and I cannot get it out of my mind whenever I refer to him. He hates it with a passion (not sure why as it's simply a contraction of his name, sorta like Bazza is a contraction of Barry) and I find myself stuck as it feels very strange for me to call him by his proper name, instead of the nickname. Oh the humanity! :-)

Which led me to ruminate on the nature of nicknames. I give nicknames out of familiarity and friendship. For me, it's basically saying, "Mate, we're not associates anymore. We're friends. So I gift you with this nickname. You may find it a bit strange, but it rolls off the tongue for me and is a sign that I consider you a good friend and am relaxed enough i your company to give you a nickname."

Sometimes, the nicknames I give don't stick. They just do not seem to fit, and we revert quickly to the mate's proper name. Other times, they do, like a glove, and the friend forever becomes known to my mind by that nickname.

I want to say: "Get over it. It's a compliment."

But somehow, I don't think he'll agree with me.

:-(

Illness and Urban Princess

Allow me to be a hypochondriac for a moment.

I can't seem to shake off this intermittent flu that I have. Was off work on Tuesday, went in yesterday, and now feel all congested and low in energy, but need to soldier on. I suspect it was the last weekend which was crazy hectic that's lowered my energy levels, immune system and BAM!! The flu.

I submitted my entry for "Urban Princess" last night. As expected, a lot of photos of pretty young things posing in urban and semi-urban settings with props. Many of them beautifully lit and photographed. A few photographs of Barbie dolls posed in modern dissolution ala Paris Hilton or Britney. I'm glad I took the route I did with my entry, even if it probably doesn't dovetail into the theme of the "Urban Princess" in the way the organisers have probably envisioned. The launch is on Friday, which should be fun, so it will be interesting to see who the judges pick as the winning pics.

My caption for my UP submission is as follows:

At night she opens the window
I wanted to do something different with the "Urban Princess" theme. I wanted to use the theme to explore the way some women have been trapped, whilst others remain trapped - in cycles of domestic abuse, of sexual exploitation and of cultural isolation. In fairy tales, the princess is often locked in the tower, hidden away from the public eye, the prize for a hero who would brave untold dangers to rescue her. Today, many women still find themselves locked away by violent relationships, by culturally constructed prisons that prevent them from expressing themselves as individuals, from realising their potential as human beings. It's a sad fact that in 2008, princesses are still locked up in the very cities which we call home. Sometimes, at night, the princess opens a window. But there is no rescuer within sight.

On my lonesome

Sometimes I love being by myself. There is a luxury in having that space on your own, free of the need to fill silences with talk, or to observer social niceties. Some people rail against doing things on their own, such as going to the movies, or having dinner out by themselves - they get depressed if they find themselves out on their own. I actually enjoy it. I'm not a loner - I crave social interaction and being able to just talk, but the "me time" is so very important for me.

I took some "me time" tonight and went to watch Kung Fu Panda. It was a so-so film, made enjoyable because of Jack Black's "performance" as the Panda Po. But the storyline was too simplistic and rather empty - like biting into a sweet bubble. The moment passes and you're waiting for the next. I think I should have gone to Mamma Mia instead. At least it features songs by ABBA. :-)

Nothing but the truth

I thought Naomi Robson (late of Today Tonight Sydney) had left the industry in disgrace. What is she doing providing voice over narration for Surf Patrol? Much as one might like to malign the dramatic editing and musical cues used to sensationalise and heighten events depicted in docu-tainment shows like Surf Patrol, the fact is that they still a fairly rip-snorting story and can be quite addictive.

You can tell I've just spent an evening in front of the telly. :-)

I ordered the Lonely Planet Guides for India and Nepal off Amazon today. Still quite a bit of research to be conducted for this trip, especially working out potential destinations beyond Delhi and Varanasi. I'd like to go to Kerala but it is a long trip (2 days by rail) or could be pricey if I flew there.

Wonderwall

It's cold, with intermittent gusts and the odd heavy shower or two this morning. I struggled to climb out of bed this morning as it was warm between the doona and bedsheets. My limbs felt like water-logged tree trunks, heavy and unwieldy. But it's Friday and the weekend is almost upon us.

I feel as if I'm running out of time with the exhibition preparation. I realised yesterday that there are only nine weeks to the event so I must really get things going. The photo selections have now been prepped for publication on Blurb; I have teed up a meeting with Big Ben at Team Digital re: sponsorship of print media (photo rag paper) and will be printing next weekend with N of Fotolounge. I'm wondering though if I should try and find some sponsorship for the wines and food at opening night... but who to ask? Perhaps the bottleo next to the Queens opposite Behind the Monkey? What of food? Dips and chips?

After Chaos and Drama and India, I think I'll take a breather - focus on submitting photographs to stock libraries and applying for potential avenues for a show or two in 2009.

I've come to realise that sometimes I need space from people. Some people require a great deal of effort and energy just to be with them and after prolonged exposure, one feels drained of spirit. A bit like exposure to radioactive material. So I'm taking a small break from the photography group's activities - at least for a few days - until I manage to recover some energy and reform my ragged spirit. I think this weekend is about consolidating other friendships and getting things done in regards to C&D.

India bound

I took a leap (of faith?) and booked my flight to India on the weekend. I'm both excited and also anxious - India is a great unknown and from what I have read and seen (on the Pilot Guide episodes), it is both confronting and transformative. At present, no plans apart from arriving and departing from Delhi, and a week or so in Varanasi (Benares). An Indian expat I worked with in Singapore strongly suggests that I go to Kerala too - by air as it's otherwise a 2+ day journey by rail from Delhi.

Now on to the logistics - visa application, vaccinations, getting packs and preparing for the trip.

Measure of a man

I was driving in to work this morning, listening to 720 Newsradio when Geoff Hutchinson interviewed a Perth woman about the death of her good friend, Darren Stratti, in Tanzania. Darren and his partner, Rebeka, run FoodWaterShelter providing all of this to children in a remote Tanzanian village. The news today explains events - Darren was shot in the chest by burglars breaking and entering his home; they stole $6000 worth of building funds. He died while en route to hospital.

The news reports mentioned Darren's Facebook and MySpace accounts (he was also a songwriter and musician, as well as a builder) and, perhaps a little morbidly, I decided to search for these. The dedications in his Facebook wall are both sad and uplifting - they describe a selfless man and more than this, speak volumes about the impact he had made in the lives of his friends and family. The messages left there by his eldest son moved me to tears. Regardless of these messages and dedications, the sad fact remains - an individual who gained much pleasure in life in helping others and being of help and benefit to a struggling community is gone. And we have only learned of this after his passing.

It's a tragic truth that we often learn of great and heroic folk and their deeds after they are gone. If only the community could have celebrated his selfless generosity and his achievement during his life. What is the measure of a man but the plaudits he receives when he is missed. But I think the world would rather that he be here, alive, and continuing with his good work.

Late in

It's past 11.15pm and I'm still awake. I should be in bed, warm under the quilt and doona (yes, I layer them) and giving myself to the sweet oblivion of sleep. Instead, I was on phlow for longer than usual and am now rather alert and typing away at this blog. Even the cats have gone to sleep.

There is a slight delay in my going part-time at work; initially planned to kick off in August, it has now been delayed until mid-Aug as a colleague is away on 2 months leave. What this means is that I will need to be more organised with Chaos and Drama as I will have even less time in the lead up to prepare and organise the show. It is a bit disappointing, but I guess it means a bit more money in the bank as I will be full time for a couple of extra weeks.

I've been running through selections (editing) for Chaos and Drama and feeling very flat about a number of the images. I'm starting to wonder if I need to revisit the earlier sets of images to find a body of photographs for the book.

The nights have been very cold. 4C tonight. Brrr... even the house is cold.

Alright, off to bed now...

The rains

After a hectic Saturday, the rains came on Sunday, effectively restricting me to the house so I could do little more than watch DVDs, drink cups of tea, coffee, wine and port, and enjoy some much-needed relaxation. Ahhh... if only weekends were more like this instead of the usual rigmarole of chores, meetings and other commitments.

I installed "Oarsome" at the Wild Fig Cafe today - and it looks pretty good if I say so myself. I was disappointed that the framers had made a mistake and allowed only a 5 cm mat per edge instead of 10 cm per edge as I asked... but little I could do about it as I needed it for today. Grrrr...

Oarsome (2008) - Digital print on fine art cotton rag

Notice the fairly upbeat tone of this blog post. Amazing what having a day of doing absolutely nothing can do to life one's spirits! I rather miss those days.

Lost willingness

I feel as if I am at the tail end of my career.. whatever that might be. I dropped in to Jac and Dave's this evening with a copy of the SoB book for Jac, and we had a chat about not being motivated or stimulated by our work. She coined the phrase: "Lost our willingness to work," which I think is true - but to qualify this, I would say that I have lost my willingness to work on things which do not interest or stimulate me.

I think this is the reason why I have been in this strangely detached frame of mind of late - a fairly depressed feeling of biding time until something grand happens. Or waiting for the opportunity for this grand thing to happen. I feel as if I am unable to progress with my plans for this thing whilst working full time and having 9 hours a day committed to the job. And I'm starting to resent this... even if my 8-4.30pm job does pay the bills and provide me with a disposable income.

I had thought before that if I did not think about it - if I stopped reflecting and obsessing about it - that it would go away. That I could think myself out of this feeling. It usually works - when I follow the principles which I have learned and taught myself - but this one feels different. It won't go away - this need to want time to be creative. So it must be bigger than I thought, and if it's this big, I should acknowledge and act on it.

Which I have, with the plan to move to part time work. I will just have to wait until August.

Playing catch up

I've decided to kick start this blog, simply because I find myself with a need to document my thoughts. Funny that I ran a Livejournal blog for the better part of two years, made the shift to Blogger for the easier-to-use interface, and then let it lie untouched for so long.

On Saturday, I booked The Cracked Gallery for three weeks in September-October -- for a showing of Chaos and Drama. Last night, I began selecting and processing images: at the moment, only happy with a handful of images but I'm hopeful that this will grow as I progress with the editing process. One image surprised me - a photograph of a visitor to the Archaeological Museum in Iraklio (Crete). I'd selected it because I thought there was merit in the moment captured, but it wasn't until it had been processed that I saw the power in that moment. It does bring to bear the old photography adage which Ansel Adams is purported to have coined about film negatives vs the finished product.

On Friday, I spoke with work about going part time and will commence at 50% in August. Actual work days have yet to be confirmed but I made it clear that I would need whole days off -- as they had initially wanted me to do 5 x 1/2 days in the week. Not an option if I am to devote time to my photography. But it's a tremendous relief to know that soon I will have time of my own, and the trick is to teach myself that this 50% time does not have to be applied 100% to my photography - that it's ok to take time to breathe, unwind, relax, observe, experience, to live. The other trick is to be able to manage my spending and to budget for 50% of my usual salary. :-)

The PCP AGM will soon be on again. I sent in my membership renewal yesterday and marked myself down as interested in volunteering. I think that with more time, I should get more involved in the community - via FotoFreo and the PCP as a volunteer. Perhaps a day a month to do gallery sitting for starters.

On Friday morning, the skies clear and filled with the shimmering blue light of the sun just risen, I went to Port Beach to catch up with Sal. We took some photographs - I caught a trio of swimmers coming out of the ocean and chatted with one of them. I had thought he was one of the winter swimming Polar Bears, but he's just regular morning swimmer. He mentioned that the light changes daily across the view towards the pines at Cottesloe - a local version of what the Roeuen Cathedral was to Monet. It is sweet sweet country and how strange that, in photographing it, I tend to reduce it to an equation of quality of light, angle of view and framing; if only I could see without the limitations these have now brought to the way I see.


A couple of days ago, I received contact via Flickr from a fella by the name of Max Armstrong offering to pose for my fallen luchadore Dare to Bare II idea. It turned out that Dale H had referred him to me as he had contacted Dale first but Dale wasn't looking for a male model. Being of naturally suspicious nature, especially about th Internet, I had to suss Armstrong out first but he seems authentic, so we've teed up a meet on Saturday morning to discuss the shoot and to address any questions he has.

Finally, I have signed up with Plurk. For now, it seems to be Twitter on a Timeline. I'm not blown away, nor can I see any value in its use. Things may change but I'm not hopeful that they will for me... I just don't seem to connect with connectivity. :-)

* ?

How do you deal with the idea of 14,000+ deaths in an earthquake? Of rescuers having to cease efforts to extract survivors buried under the rubble of schools and offices because to further attempt the rescue was unsafe. Of survivors trapped without the prospect of rescue - of their living only to die in darkness?

The answer is: you can't.

The quake in China's Sichuan Province has eclipsed the disaster of the cyclone in Burma (Myanmar). The extent of both natural disasters is beyond anything we can fathom. So: do we go on with our daily lives, our daily concerns, turning only to glance at the statistics or the "amazing" story of survival ("Girl trapped for 50 hours rescued"), nod, and proceed with our own petty workaday worries? Do we acknowledge our individual helplessness and decide that it's all too much, all to big, for us to wrap our imaginations around, and that our energies would be better served directed at the next sale, or project, or celebrity gossip, or the prospect of a nice lunch, or what to cook for dinner, or what new release is available at the video store?

I'm rapidly forming this impression as I watch the responses (or lack thereof) in my community.

It's easy to criticise - true - but in this context, what the fuck can we actually do? The scope of the disasters in both China and Burma is massive. How can affluent communities deal with this? How can we show our support beyond token donations to the Red Cross, MSF and similar organisations? How can we engage with this disaster in a way that is meaningful to those affected by it?

If anyone knows the answer, please share.

Because my helplessness is, ashamedly, converting into unconcern and I find myself forgetting about the breadth of the disasters, of the people affected, and wondering about lunches, dinners and what I'm supposed to do next at work.

We say sorry

A historic moment tomorrow, with the formal apology made to Indigenous Australians and to the stolen generation. The text to this apology, which will be spoken by Kevin Rudd, PM, was released today:

Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.

We reflect on their past mistreatment.

We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were stolen generations - this blemished chapter in our nation's history.

The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia's history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.

We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.

For the pain, suffering and hurt of these stolen generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.

And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.

We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.

For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.

We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.

A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.

A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.

A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.

A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.

A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia."

Gone

I realised yesterday that it isn't until the funeral of a person that the reality that he or she is gone truly sinks in.

I attended the funeral of Paolo Sinagra, with a mass at St Patrick's Basilica, and the funeral service at the Fremantle Mausoleum. I found it difficult - not because of the sadness of the occasion, but because of the way in which it was conducted by the funeral directors in such a detached and clinical manner. Perhaps infusing the ceremony with so much ritual and gravity robbed it of emotion - so much so that when Giuseppina burst into tears and called out in Italian that she missed her husband, that the outpouring of quiet grief felt strange and wrong in the rigid quietude which the funeral directors had erected around the event.

Most alarming of all was the large, pinched-face woman who led the service. She would have made any stern major domo proud, and her dedication to the solemnity of the proceedings and her practiced sympathy made me angry. Why was the casket not borne by members of the Sinagra family from church to hearse, and from hearse to mausoleum? Why was the burnished cross attached using masking tape to the top of Paolo's casket? Why did the directors stand to one side chatting and laughing amongst themselves whilst visitors queued to offer the consolations to the family?

I was disturbed, furious and upset by the cold and sterile way in which the funeral directors conducted the occasion. I didn't want to speak with the other guests - because I wanted to be with my own thoughts.

Most moving of all were the eulogies delivered by Tony and Vince. They told us the story of Paolo's life - of why he became the man that he was: the husband and father who lived for his family in the most traditional sense. It's the typical tale of migrant courage, endurance, dedication and sacrifice, and it was beautiful, touching and magnificent. In those words, we came to know Paolo's lifetime and experiences, and, ironically, came to learn more about the man at his farewelling than we did while he was with us.

As I left, I walked past a crypt on the exterior of the mausoleum. This bore a photograph of a little boy of perhaps six or seven, around which were placed drawings, flowers and other childish memorabilia. Several home-made birthday cards adorned the facade, wishing little Sebastian a happy 10th birthday in heaven.

Sorry

One significant word will finally be uttered on February 13, 2008 when the Australian Parliament resumes. It's a word that has been years in the making, and which, in many respects, signals the courage, progressiveness and maturity of the Rudd-led Labor Government. The fact that it will finally be uttered within the context of a government apology to the Stolen Generation makes me so very proud to be an Australian in 2008.