new neighbourhood friend

He is not always around but if I walk past his place around 5pm he is usually waiting out the front for his flatmates to come home and get dinner on. I have no idea what his name is but he recognises me and comes when I give my special cat whistle. His fur is now thick for winter. Somehow only today I notice he has a milk moustache and really long whiskers.

Hard rubbish #4

I think this was that best pile of hard rubbish for the year.

Ecountered in September on Warren Rd encountered on the way to the supermarket.
Not only was it was probably the biggest pile I have seen in Marrickville this year, but it was the best because I actually gleaned two items, and I especially enjoyed its many clashing patterns.

The 3 stoneware Mikasa plates I took home and the lovely faded draw-lining paper I did not take home.

You can't see the black&white with fluro highlighted pattern shorts and top (with shoulder pads) that I took home and gave to the stylish and vibrant Dionie, but believe me if I was 12 years younger I would have been rocking the retro 80s look.

I also would have taken the painting 12 years ago but I am now in an expelling rather than acquiring phase.

It was a close call but this pile that appeared a few days before Xmas on School Pde was a pretty interesting temporary sculpture too. I did notice that chuck outs increased dramatically in Marrickville in the week before Xmas. Check out the vintage of the TV!

Happy New Year! I hope you have luck with both gleaning and chucking!

Hard rubbish #3

lone cockatoo

like a Christmas tree angel on top of the Norfolk Island Pine tree next door

I think he might have been an avery-escapee as he was on his own- you usually see Sulfur-crested Cockatoos in flocks- or he might be from the gang that hang out just south of the Cooks River temporarily separated. He was getting harassed by the local Magpies and Noisy Minors.

"A conference of cats"

It's not been a good day

Not much progress has been made on the chapter that is almost finished and I am in terrible hormonal mood which is sinking into a blue funk as I face the reality that I probably wont be going to Japan or Europe this year.

Siting at my messy desk I notice a zine that has been living on the left hand side of my computer for some time now. It has a price sticker on it which makes me think that I bought in the flesh from Sticky (as opposed to online) on my way home from Nagoya which included a long stop in Melbourne. My desk is like that, things land there and stay there.

Anyway I was procrastinating so I read it for the first time- I often buy zines quickly on the feel and look of them.

Called "Raining in my room" it was a charming read. I realise now that I shared a table with the writer Emma at the Wollongong zine fair couple of years ago. She is one half of Take Care distro. (Flaps doesn't currently stocks with them) (if your interested in zines it's worth checking out her blog, scroll down for distro information and some posts from her about zine making, also good list of links)

Its a zine about suburbia and memory, and the last section is about the stray cats that hang out in the closed off road at the end of Shirlow St, Marrickville - it turns out that they are many peoples secret pleasure.

Emma I hope you don't mind me posting part of your zine here:

My favourite line: "The streets are dark and catless."

now I can move this zine to the pile on the bookshelf..

one year

of this blog.

I started with a story about mess, or the lack of it and posted photos as a comparison during the clean up. 'Mess' has been a fairly consisted tag, appearing times 7 times, as many times as 'art' and 'ginger cats'.

On the day which was the one year from the day that I arrived in Japan, the anniversary of my first Fuji sighting, I was cleaning up my studio as I was going to have visitors. By the way I consider the photo above of one corner of my studio, while not 'clean' it's certainly 'ordered'- for me! by comparison!
Somehow that process of cleaning finally brought me home, or perhaps it was sense of the floating freedom of 2010 had finally come to an end. It could also have been because I was preparing the various channels of "Feeders" for viewing, I had a chance to reflect on all the work I had done recently and to see myself as a artist rather than PhD student. For whatever reason my old-self drew down my floating-self and I finally felt 'back'.

For the last 3months I have been avoiding being in my studio- and it had a lot to do with appalling mess I had created there while making many props and editing two multiple channel video works. But I think it was also about accepting that I am home and I need to get back onto working on driving my writing and studio forward.

As I took this photo to I wondered how I ever had room for my cat on this desk. The sign in the corner says "This is not the life my mother wanted for me" and comes from this work.

I haven't always posted as much as I wanted or intended to- there are plenty of half finished posts. I'm not even sure who I am writing for. Although I know Sarah and Caren are reading it because they often comments- your tops ladies!

Marrickville nature strip

Wednesday again so soon. My problem is I feel like all my words need to be saved for my thesis at the moment.

Out the window this morning

I was staring out the kitchen window while waiting for the kettle to boil for my first cup of tea and caught sight of this wonderful surprise. It was moving too fast to see that was on the silver star in the middle of the cluster.

As you see can it's still grey in Sydney.

Home

Every day clear and sunny since I've come home.

The view from the new deck.

I wish you could photograph customs as you arrive into Australia- I always know I am home at that point- the look of all the lower public servant workers: customs officials in short sleeves with large tattoos pocking through the lower sleeve; Gay men and women working as quarantine officials; Australian tavellers in tracksuit pants, jeans and t-shirts the main dress code; the immediate feel of the dominate working class culture; humidity and blue blue skies as you touch down. Ah home... I love it