Figs & fruitlessness

Figs & fruitlessness

It’s been an age since I wrote. I always think I can remember ideas that come to me, so I don’t write them down in the moment but just turn them over, considering the angles and how to best unpack what it is I’m pondering… and then I leave my thoughts for a moment, to have coffee or hang my washing or answer the phone and suddenly the idea is a flame extinguished and all I can do is press my fingers into the embers left behind, trying to revive the spark.

Lately this has happened a lot, and somehow then the ideas bubble and burst on each other as well, creating a whirl that is desperate in its suction and empty at its core. I’m left feeling all adrift within myself, though nothing bad or untoward has transpired and indeed, several things have been good.

For one, my boyfriend has (finally?) moved to the same city, which is lovely.  And after a challenging and slightly claustrophobic-but-in-hindsight-really-lovely month of co-habiting in one small room, he has found a house and gotten a job and bought a bike and thus ticked off all the essentials to capital life living.

For another, I was able to spend the entirety of last week playing with clay & forming sculptural busts in a summer intensive workshop with Cristina Cordova, which was new and engaging in all the right ways. (It was also a little humbling on day one, to realise that people had travelled internationally to attend and I’d kind of fallen into attending, via some gentle nagging from my ceramics teacher…)

I mean at the end of it my bust cracked (fissured derrière) - but what (I ask) is worth doing that you get right first time?

And finally (since everything interesting comes in threes), my mum sold her Sydney house two days before my sister moved to Canberra (and a week before the auction) which has opened up a world of possibilities for her (and by lichen-like extension, us).

All that sits firmly in the positive column of the running ‘life’ balance, making it even more of a mystery why I feel so out of sorts. A mystery that I will likely first try and solve with coffee, then painting and then, finally, swimming – the ultimate in circuit-breaking your mind.

So until coherence returns, here’s my picture of some figs - which I’d intended as a preface to a post about the curious dynamics of public change-rooms, but then forgot most of what was compelling.  Ahah.

Meta-making I: on making while making

Meta-making I: on making while making

Not an Animal or a Plant: (but) a very good show

Not an Animal or a Plant: (but) a very good show