Without beginning nor end

Without beginning nor end

It is quite a thing to know where to begin. And indeed, where to go from there.

Without divine inspiration, let us start where(ish) we left off, with me (head cold in full swing) scurrying up the Federal Highway hoping to make Sydney before the roads choke with the gasping pilgrimage of peak hour.

Destination reached, I donned some fancy clothes I never wear anymore because I can’t throw (pots) in them and headed down the road to Mansfield Ceramics for the opening of a new show of all things clay. This makes me sound like I am one keen ceramic bean - which I suppose one could say I am - but I will admit my ulterior motive was seeing my boyfriend who, in an echo of how we met, would be pouring free booze for the rapacious Friday night crowd (no judgement, I too went straight for the bubbles. Medicinal, you know).

I had optimistically counted on the Sydney sunshine to disappear my cold and was handsomely rewarded when Saturday dawned with brilliant blue skies and a very respectable high of 28 degrees. Sun beats Sudafed.

Trading my boyfriend for my best friend (no really, I dropped one of them off & picked the other up within a thirty second window), we headed off to Bondi to check out the market scene. I’m thinking (read: dancing around the idea) of coughing up for a stall at one of the November markets in an attempt to replenish my clay monies for next year through selling ceramics made this year. Recycling almost. Reputed as an artsy crafty market full of handmade goodness, it was an almost depressing affair wading through the assortment of new-age-kale-smoothie stalls (align your shakra with your colon) and organic-sprouted-gluten-free vegan bakeries (exclusively constructed out of different coconut derivatives). I say almost depressing because there were very generous tastings on offer… and I am a glutton for a freebie- even if it tastes like the love child of oatmeal & cardboard.

My confusion at this misrepresentation of market niche was later resolved when I realised that Bondi has markets both days of the weekend (of course it does) and the Saturday markets are food centric with the craft on Sundays. Clearly while the holistically-blessed-tumeric-latte tasting may have claimed to clean my insides (of what I always wonder?) it was insufficient to kick-start my lazy brain into gear.

The afternoon (after a fully-caffeinated cow’s-milk coffee or two) was given over to household chores as, after 19 years (!!) mum has decided to relieve herself of the burden of Sydney house-ownership (briefly, before re-assuming somewhere else). In what seems to be a universal pattern, we tackled all sorts of odd jobs that had been put off (and then put off some more) including framing (and hanging) the pictures shown above, from my last semester’s life drawing class.

Then, sliding a mascara wand across my already drooping lids and congratulating myself for rarely going beyond that one action so as not to unwisely raise expectations, I met my boyfriend in Balmain for dinner. Which you know was lovely and actually candlelit and probably you don’t really want to know any more than that.

The next morning dawned even more glorious than the previous, and we capitalised with an extravagant four-course brunch with friends up the road in Kazbah. It was utterly amazing. I fully recommend both doing it and fasting before. I think I was honestly in a food coma for the rest of the weekend, at least until making lasagne for family dinner which, while not nearly as good as mother’s, was edible. Win.

I spent most of the week telling myself to start my art theory essay (analysis of the linkages between public art, monumentality and urban experience) and instead getting a head start on my Netflix list (for the same reason that makes me inclined to compulsively rid the fridge of food I’ve bought I feel the need to watch shows as soon as I put them on my list… possibly should see someone about that. Or just stop acquiring).

Moving on to healthier topics, I also threw porcelain for the second time. The first time was at the beginning of semester with a porcelain blend called Imperial Porcelain and while the name was intimidating the actuality was like toothpaste… imagining trying to fashion a bowl from toothpaste. Complete disaster. This time I tried a different blend from Keane’s called Lumina which came highly recommended by an extremely talented friend and it didn’t disappoint – beautifully silky and gorgeously fluid, I can see it becoming a dangerously expensive predilection (porcelain is roughly x2.5 more expensive than other stoneware clays that look pretty-much-but-not-quite identical).

Today I resolved to finally start my art theory essay before work… then I went in to throw before work so resolved to start it after work. Now its after work but I’ve just added two new Jason Statham movies to my Netflix list so that odds aren’t looking that good for monumentalism in the urban sense.

Anyone else a sucker for bad action movies?

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Tale of the rut

Tale of the rut