Bookclubbing 30th

I was recently commissioned to make these 9 commemorative brooches for my mother's bookclub. They've be going for 30 years! Each brooch is cut from a piece of wavy cuttlefish-cast sheet and has a freshwater pearl dangling. Because of my inability to control the casting process very well (I get the shakes around molten metal!) some of the books are thicker than others. Much like in my mother's bookclub. The books, not the ladies! Everything from vast sweeping sagas encompassing the lives of 5 generations across 4 continents to racy Jilly Cooper's to Janette Turner Hospital's tales of life in our pig city.

It has to be said though that conversation in bookclub rarely turned to books. 10 or so boxes of them sat there in the middle of the room providing a convenient excuse for a girly get-together just in case they were challenged by a disgruntled husband. There were much more interesting things to talk about than literature, high or low. Life of course was the main topic of conversation as these women grew careers, families and later grand children and compared notes on all of the above.

We used to love it when mum hosted bookclub. We hid under the covers while the ladies cackled, chomped and gulped their way through the evening's program of news, tasty nibblies and vino. Dad beat a hasty retreat to wherever it is that Dads go in these situations. Although our suburb was dry so it couldn't have been the pub.
So if you see anyone wearing one of these pins, you'll know what secret society they belong to!

Cuttlefish Flotsam

Cuttlefish bones are strange things- like little riderless surfboards they beach themselves obligingly for passing budgie fanciers. The growth layers of calcium in the bone are also useful for jewellers as moulds for casting molten metal into. The result is a wavy texture and a stinking pong as the bone smoulders and burns. The effect is well worth the stench though as it is serendipitously reminiscent of ripples or low tide patterns in sand or mud. I use this technique my range of Longshore Drifter pebble jewellery. Longshore drift is the ocean current that moves sand, flotsam and jetsam generally northwards up the east coast of Australia but also swirling around in big eddies that double back. We end up getting us all sorts of treats on the waves from near and far including sea beans from far north QLD and plastics from asia I like to think or at least passing ships! I 've heard of one beach up north that has only left footed thongs/flip flopsam and another around the headland that has all the right footed thongs. The ocean is an amazing sorter of flotsam.

One of my all time favorite plastic beaches - Sunken Reef Bay on Hinchinbrook Is- has entire television sets washed up on it as well as all manner of plastic domestic items. You can create a virtual lounge room with all mod cons for your campsite that is better than the real thing. It gave me a taste of the coming apocalypse, tonnes of broken and non functional consumer waste lying around while we inexpertly tried to catch fish for dinner. It was quite difficult to leave this place but I knew I'd come to blows with the prissy clean up australia mob if I stayed.

When I cannot get to the beach, as it is hardly on my doorstep, I find solace in Presley's scans documenting all the flotsam he finds in San Francisco's Bay area. These studies are a constant source of inspiration as he transforms the detritus he finds and others would ignore into astonishingly beautiful compositions.

Flotsam Drifters

I've been having fun with flickr post-holiday, documenting some of my fave flotsam found, including Mud Island Baby. Also found the wonderful widgets to fidget with via Marta.

Holiday

Just went for a brief holiday with the Accordian at Stradbroke /Minjerribah Island where you can still find some of the old fibro beach shacks to stay in while listening to the wind in the she-oaks.

Back 2 Skool Suckers

Of the current 2 retail crazes I'm finding the back to school stationery festival far more enjoyable than the nationalistic flag frenzy of Straya Day/Survival Day, whaddeva you want to call it.

Could it be a touch of schadenfreude knowing all the little Dick and Doras are finishing their super fun holidays and going back to boring old school to learn multiplication tables and John Howard's new history curriculum? Nah. It is just that I like to celebrate stationery. Before wrecking it. Today I got this rather spiffy giant pencil shelving unit at the local thrift store. It just happens to match Texta velvet touch me pencil pins quite well. Colour me happy Mr Squiggle.

Nautical Week 5: Sea Birds

Coastal Birds toys: Florence Forrest

Photos of Birds: Wayne Kington

Sandgate artists Florence Forrest and Rachel Arthur have collaborated to create a wonderful Coastal Birds series of soft toys. They are available (unless they are all sold out which I suspect is a strong possibility!) until 25 November in the Furry Friend's exhibition in Surry Hills, Sydney.

Florence has interpreted the evocative drawings and paintings of Rachel's so cleverly. It is of great releif that she promises to work on the series more in 2007. They capture so well the pelicans and segulls that Wayne Kington has photographed on a recent trip to Amity (shark) Point at Stradbroke Island (thanks Wayne). The mother of pearl sky is a strong feature of the landscape in Moreton Bay and the soft toys bring to mind the pearlescent watery light.

Heading Out After the Storm: Rachel Arthur

And thank Florence for showing me the work of Rachel Arthurs. I am particulary drawn to this painting (oil and graphite on printed cotton) above. I love fishing boats and tales of the high seas and am reminded of the little ditty Dad used to sing to us:

You shall have a fishy
In a little dishy
You shall have a fishy
When the boat comes in.

Dance for your mama
Sing for your papa
Dance for your mama
When the boat comes in.

Glen Rocks 2: Interior/exterior

Some more photo arranging here. Ironbarks and Glen Rock and kangaroo grass and through old screened hopper windows looking out onto a close cropped yard. Thanks Wayne Kington for the photos.

Glen Rocks

I visted Glen Rock on the weekend, out on Main Range. Mr Accordian took these snaps.

It was thirsty country: cattle in the dry creek bed where once were platypus, brushboxes wilted on the rocky slopes. A series of farmhouses built at maybe 50+ year intervals were in a ridge line looking over the valley. The first was a old slab hut with a single room and handcut timber built a rather long time ago. The 2nd was an old timber Queenslander maybe 70-80yrs old. The final was the classic 1970's yellow brick 2 storey. Some of the lurid internal wallpaper and carpets in the 2 most recent houses seemed to relate to the stark environment in a strange way.
The hardy silver-leafed ironbark (top right) grew in stunted colonies up the sides of the Madder Horn, which we climbed at a leisurely canyonero assisted pace. The Madder Horn, spelt that way on the map, must have earned it's name from the cows mad enough to walk to the top. But it was well worth it for us view lovin humans.

Non-human Drongo

The jasmine's a-blooming and I saw my first non-human drongo today which means that it must well and truly be spring. Being a drongo, it's probably migrating in the opposite direction to more conventional birds. Like from a Melbourne winter to a Darwin summer or something equally as stupid. It was sitting on the wire above the roadside -tho they also love hanging about in the she-oaks with Langley Longlegs- and I was reminded that words such as drongo (meaning idiot, not to be confused with Galah) will soon be banned from Parliament. Now parliamentary debate is one of the few examples where drongo is still used on a daily basis, mostly to refer to the opposite member. So it will be up to all little aussie battlers to keep such words alive in sentences like, “How many of you drongos voted for John Howard?” But it will be tough competition with new words coming into the lexicon all the time, inspired by our loathsome pollies.

For example, ‘Beasley’ and ‘Ruddock’ have become common curse words in my household and are also used to describe those stinkier bodily functions one has from time to time. In a sentence: “Don’t go in there, I just dropped a Ruddock”.

Which leaves the poor drongo where exactly? Up the dunny without a paddle I suppose. Back to the flower arranging now.

Tales from the Accordian

Do you have an old accordion sitting in the corner of your house? Perchance inherited from a whiskery old uncle or grandpa? Accordians can sit around quietly for many years soaking up the secrets, the tales and the myths of suburbia in their papery folds. Then, one day they get their own blog and it all starts coming out the bellows.

If only I could say that the accordion in my house were so well behaved. Sometimes it really earns its nickname, The Annoydian. Though I have to admit, the annoydian and its human appendage are my 2 favourite things. And no, Liana, you cannot cut up the plastic pearlescent keys.

Visit The Urban Myths: Tales from the Accordian for tales that will tickle your fancy.

Before she was famous

Yes, I knew her before...
Deb Conway (brunette), before she was famous. When faux bone/white plastic jewellery was fashionable among the knitting classes. Before Do Re Mi was on Countdown. She was a knitwear model. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

This is my new obsession. Collecting knitting patterns with people in them before they were famous. Yes, a bit of a niche I know. And I only have one other one so far of some curly redheaded broad who used to be in a Country Practice and was later in a tragic travel magazine show and I'd really have to look up her name if only I could be bothered, but one day I'll have a collection to rival the girls at Threadbared.

So this is a nice thought: Before she was famous. At MobWorkspace we can often be found singing under our breath "When, will I , will I be famous" which got stuck in our little budgie brains somehow soon after the arrival of Plastic Girl. And last week we had an article about me, Liana Kabel and some other diamond and gold jeweller (what?! they don't use garbage and found objects?!!) published in the local rag- article link here. So for the benefit of all and sundry I have pasted the full lyrics of this definitive generation x anthem below:

Bros
When will I be famous

Yes, you're suitably at one with your body and the sun
Yes, you are
You've read Karl Marx and you've taught yourself to dance
You're the best by far

But you keep asking the question
One you're not supposed to mention
Hey, yeah, oooh!

When will I, will I be famous?
I can't answer, I can't answer that
When will I see my picture in the paper?
I can't answer, I can't answer that

But I can't tell you when
You'll see your name up in lights
When will I, will I be famous?
You keep asking me, babe

You're a slave to fashion and your life is full of passion
It's the way you are
You've suffered for your art with the jogging in the park
You know you should go far

But you keep asking the question (Ooohooo)
One you're not supposed to mention
(I'm not supposed to mention) Yeah, oooh!

When will I, will I be famous?
I can't answer, I can't answer that
When will I see my picture in the paper?
I can't answer (I can't wait), I can't answer that

But I can't tell you when
You'll see your name up in lights
When will I, will I be famous?
You keep asking me, babe (I can't wait)

You won't suffer in silence (Suffer)
You're a talent, you know that I've noticed (I've noticed)
You'd like to be a legend (Ooohooo)
A big star overnight

(Tell me when) I can't answer your question
(I can't wait) It's driving me insane (Ooohooohooo)
And your impossible impatience (Impatience!)
Tearing at my brain (It's tearing away)

Oho, I can't take it, take it much more
Got too much to hope for

(When will I, will I)
When, when, when, when, whe-whe-whe-whe-when will I
Will I, will I
(When will I)
When, when, when, when, whe-whe-whe-whe-when will I
Will I, will, will, will I

When will I, will I be famous?
I can't answer, I can't answer that
When will I, will I be famous?
I can't answer, I can't answer that

When will I, will I be famous?
I can't answer, I can't answer that (What's the final answer?)
When will I see my picture in the paper?
I can't answer, I can't answer that (I can't take it)

When will I (When, when, tell me when)
I can't answer (I can't tell you when), I can't answer that
When will I (Will I be famous)
I can't answer, I can't answer that

When will I (Babe, better believe me)
I can't answer, I can't answer that
When will I (Will I be famous)
I can't answer, I can't answer that

When will I see my picture in the paper?
I can't answer, I can't answer that
When will I (When, when, tell me when)
I can't answer, I can't answer that

When will I, will I be famous?

Spot the phoney

It’s not difficult to become disillusioned at the unrelenting ugliness of our built environment. We could be anywhere in the (western) world circa 2006 I guess, it's like a cruel god has taken a cloning stamp along the main road and repeated the same combination of tilt slab supastores/billboards over and over. But every now and then you find a speck of gold that makes it all okay. One to look out for when driving north out of Brisbane is a certain palm tree of significance. Passing though Windsor, Lutwyche, Kedron, if somehow you manage not to run your car into the nearest power pole out of despair, look to your right. Next to the abandoned 1970s Pizza Hut you will see an amazing sight. One of these palm trees is an imposter.

The genius of nature is at work behind this wonderful disguise for a mobile phone tower. Being a neo-luddite I eschew the mobile telephone, but if I had one, I would immediately plant it in my back yard and watch it grow into one of these beautiful trees. For surely they have learned to replicate themselves. The fruiting body of this example has been fertilised by millions of messages from mobile phones all over the world ensuring the diversity of the gene pool. In a bizarre twist, the phones have used the humans as agents for their sexual reproduction – you've heard of 'phone sex'.

Ripe and ready, the phonelings drop to the ground to be collected by hungry humans always demanding the freshest, fanciest phones. Sadly, they get smaller every year, suggesting that the population is under threat. Or is natural selection playing its part here? From Palm to palm the cunning phone is then dispersed far and wide waiting for the day when it is discarded or lost and returned to the soil to begin all over again.

I hope they put a Vegetation Protection Order on it.

Bird Week

Every morning I like to take tea in my beautiful Shannon Garson porcelain cup and sit on the back deck letting the warm morning sun ease me into the day.

While doing this, I often get to see lots of bird events in the bushy back yard. They are always upset or excited about something- cats, possums, other birds. The Mickeys in particular like to be in a constant state of moral outrage. One memorable bird event was the Bird Wars of 2002. Diplomatic talks completely broke down between the Mickeys and the Blue Faced Honeyeaters. The blue faces are are pictured left holding the strategic TV aerial position along one of their containment lines. I've never heard such a din! The cats generously offered to supply first aid to any casualties.
If you did not know already, it is Bird Week and time to appreciate our feathered friends. That's according to Shannon Garson's Strange Fragments blog showing a different bird related creation every day of this week.
Happy bird week (and lay off the KFC why don't you!?)