Looks like one of my favourite directors also likes the idea of the Last Supper:
http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/news/story/0,,2282177,00.html
Wednesday, May 28
Saturday, May 24
not quite back to the real world
It’s been less than a fortnight since I left Bundanon, but already it’s feeling like a fairly pivotal turning point in my creative life.
Having moved fairly smoothly from school to university to the workplace, finding myself in jobs (journalism/newspaper editor) that offer plenty of challenges and require a substantial amount of attention from my mind, I’ve never really had the opportunity to spend any great stretch of time on creative projects.
Those that I have pursued have been, invariably, either spontaneous or reactive. My two novel length works-in progress both began life as short stories that simply got out of hand, taking on a life of their own. On the photography front, I’ve been very much of the verité school, shooting what I see, the world ‘as it is’ without my interference. I acknowledge, of course, the choices I make in subject selection, framing, composition and the like, but have rarely been active in setting up or directing a scene or an image. I’d figured this was a stylistic choice, a philosophical consideration of photography as documentation and momentary, but am now wondering whether it was simply a lack of time.
On the writing side, the hope entering the fortnight had been to finish a few projects, in any spare time that may have emerged around our main major ‘life between buildings’ project. Yet after two weeks these never even made it out of the suitcase – this was a place and a time for thinking afresh, for inventing/crafting not polishing; opening doors not closing them.
So instead of wrapping up existing projects, I seem to have started more than I can keep track of. Central is the life between buildings song cycle, to which I intend to co-contribute text along with Rhiannon and Danielle, and work on more visual ideas that will hopefully augment its final presentation.
‘The Last Supper’ is to be a 12-song song-cycle, co-created by the life between buildings team of Serena Armstrong, Danielle Carey, Rhiannon Cook, Julian Day, and, in there as well, me.
The cycle will build upon written texts exploring the last meals of condemned death row prisoners, combining the irresistible motifs of Food and Death.
The idea is to create a work that can stand alone in a traditional performative sense, incorporating visual elements , but there is also strong interest in looking at the ‘event’ possibilities the idea holds, to explore its potential in installation or even ‘happening’ terms, such as incorporating the work into an actual meal with audience interaction, a blurring of the active performer/ passive audience lines.
This idea developed throughout Bundanon and grew richer each day, particularly in the second week. We would share our thoughts and ideas for it, discussing its difficulties and problematic aspects as well as what intrigued us.
Once the idea had developed to a point where we could all see where it might be heading, we were each able to work on bringing our various strengths to it, working on potential texts and some basic musical possibilities.
Amidst all this, as I was being drawn further and further into the surrounds, I also found some windows to experiment with some visual ideas. With a fortnight to spend free of daily concerns (cooking and grooming matters notwithstanding), my early ideas for some photographic series developed, expanded and then shifted quite substantially. For reasons I expect I’ll explore at greater length down the line, I’ve developed a fascination bordering on obsession with red. Red in all its forms, but particularly red as a thread – in this case wool.
‘Threads’ are a theme I’ve begun to quietly follow, but the red is quite recent and appeared quite suddenly, almost violently. Apart from its symbolic elements, which I’ll discuss down the track, I’m quite taken by the difficulties cameras appear to have in processing reds of this intensity.
My early red interventions at Bundanon were quite rushed and quickly executed. I wasn’t sure if the idea even had any lasting worth, and hadn’t fully understood what it was I was trying to say. Spending more and more time wrapping objects, winding the wool around the man-made or natural items that drew me, that seemed to be asking for a red challenge, or echo, I found the time and space to think more about what it was I was trying to do, and say.
I had gone into Bundanon thinking I would look at spending more time on photo manipulation – working with layers to get my photos to look at the relationship between the ‘observed world’, text and music. But instead of post-production and scanning, layering disparate images for a common cause, I found I was more and more drawn towards creating these layers in real-time and real-space.
The poetics of the bush and its musicality was utterly enthralling. I couldn’t face sitting at my computer trying to recreate when here was a chance to create directly, to interact with the natural surroundings and enter into a type of direct dialogue.
Hence the paperbark/paperback project, the Byron rock, the Haydn gum, and variations on the ‘poe-tree’ project. Many more ideas have also been sifting through since my return, with the urge to create kicked along again after seeing Jeanette Winterson, a favourite author, speak at the Sydney Opera House to open the Sydney Writers’ Festival on Tuesday (more about that for another post).
While perhaps seemingly like a fairly haphazard hotchpotch of concepts and threads, each, in their way, has been spawned by the Bundanon and life between buildings collaboration. In the past I’ve tended to work fairly individually, drawing upon my own ideas and bouncing them up against, well, myself.
I think what I’ve taken from this experience is not just the amazing time I had working closely with such creative, inspiring artists (and good friends!), but I have learned how ideas bounced around can grow and develop and take on a life of their own, thanks to the enthusiasm and input of others.
So while we have a common cause in our central project, we all each have other strands to follow, other threads to explore, that each developed, to some extent out, of the collaborative process. The actual ‘practice’ part, the writing or the photography is, for me, still a fairly personal path. I tend to process ideas over a longer period than some, then quietly chip away at them, channelling through my work things I can’t always explain in discussion. I think my strength in working with others is more likely to be a piece of text or a photo that tells a story, rather than ‘discussed’ input as such – that may change, but my work seems to come from a part of me I don’t necessarily have access to in conversation form.
To spend two weeks immersed in this, in such a deeply inspiring place as Bundanon, has been an experience that will ripple through my life for some time.
This was an inspiring group of artists to spend time with, and I like to think we’ll be able to keep working together, even if loosely, under the life between buildings umbrella.
- Benjamin
Having moved fairly smoothly from school to university to the workplace, finding myself in jobs (journalism/newspaper editor) that offer plenty of challenges and require a substantial amount of attention from my mind, I’ve never really had the opportunity to spend any great stretch of time on creative projects.
Those that I have pursued have been, invariably, either spontaneous or reactive. My two novel length works-in progress both began life as short stories that simply got out of hand, taking on a life of their own. On the photography front, I’ve been very much of the verité school, shooting what I see, the world ‘as it is’ without my interference. I acknowledge, of course, the choices I make in subject selection, framing, composition and the like, but have rarely been active in setting up or directing a scene or an image. I’d figured this was a stylistic choice, a philosophical consideration of photography as documentation and momentary, but am now wondering whether it was simply a lack of time.
On the writing side, the hope entering the fortnight had been to finish a few projects, in any spare time that may have emerged around our main major ‘life between buildings’ project. Yet after two weeks these never even made it out of the suitcase – this was a place and a time for thinking afresh, for inventing/crafting not polishing; opening doors not closing them.
So instead of wrapping up existing projects, I seem to have started more than I can keep track of. Central is the life between buildings song cycle, to which I intend to co-contribute text along with Rhiannon and Danielle, and work on more visual ideas that will hopefully augment its final presentation.
‘The Last Supper’ is to be a 12-song song-cycle, co-created by the life between buildings team of Serena Armstrong, Danielle Carey, Rhiannon Cook, Julian Day, and, in there as well, me.
The cycle will build upon written texts exploring the last meals of condemned death row prisoners, combining the irresistible motifs of Food and Death.
The idea is to create a work that can stand alone in a traditional performative sense, incorporating visual elements , but there is also strong interest in looking at the ‘event’ possibilities the idea holds, to explore its potential in installation or even ‘happening’ terms, such as incorporating the work into an actual meal with audience interaction, a blurring of the active performer/ passive audience lines.
This idea developed throughout Bundanon and grew richer each day, particularly in the second week. We would share our thoughts and ideas for it, discussing its difficulties and problematic aspects as well as what intrigued us.
Once the idea had developed to a point where we could all see where it might be heading, we were each able to work on bringing our various strengths to it, working on potential texts and some basic musical possibilities.
Amidst all this, as I was being drawn further and further into the surrounds, I also found some windows to experiment with some visual ideas. With a fortnight to spend free of daily concerns (cooking and grooming matters notwithstanding), my early ideas for some photographic series developed, expanded and then shifted quite substantially. For reasons I expect I’ll explore at greater length down the line, I’ve developed a fascination bordering on obsession with red. Red in all its forms, but particularly red as a thread – in this case wool.
‘Threads’ are a theme I’ve begun to quietly follow, but the red is quite recent and appeared quite suddenly, almost violently. Apart from its symbolic elements, which I’ll discuss down the track, I’m quite taken by the difficulties cameras appear to have in processing reds of this intensity.
My early red interventions at Bundanon were quite rushed and quickly executed. I wasn’t sure if the idea even had any lasting worth, and hadn’t fully understood what it was I was trying to say. Spending more and more time wrapping objects, winding the wool around the man-made or natural items that drew me, that seemed to be asking for a red challenge, or echo, I found the time and space to think more about what it was I was trying to do, and say.
I had gone into Bundanon thinking I would look at spending more time on photo manipulation – working with layers to get my photos to look at the relationship between the ‘observed world’, text and music. But instead of post-production and scanning, layering disparate images for a common cause, I found I was more and more drawn towards creating these layers in real-time and real-space.
The poetics of the bush and its musicality was utterly enthralling. I couldn’t face sitting at my computer trying to recreate when here was a chance to create directly, to interact with the natural surroundings and enter into a type of direct dialogue.
Hence the paperbark/paperback project, the Byron rock, the Haydn gum, and variations on the ‘poe-tree’ project. Many more ideas have also been sifting through since my return, with the urge to create kicked along again after seeing Jeanette Winterson, a favourite author, speak at the Sydney Opera House to open the Sydney Writers’ Festival on Tuesday (more about that for another post).
While perhaps seemingly like a fairly haphazard hotchpotch of concepts and threads, each, in their way, has been spawned by the Bundanon and life between buildings collaboration. In the past I’ve tended to work fairly individually, drawing upon my own ideas and bouncing them up against, well, myself.
I think what I’ve taken from this experience is not just the amazing time I had working closely with such creative, inspiring artists (and good friends!), but I have learned how ideas bounced around can grow and develop and take on a life of their own, thanks to the enthusiasm and input of others.
So while we have a common cause in our central project, we all each have other strands to follow, other threads to explore, that each developed, to some extent out, of the collaborative process. The actual ‘practice’ part, the writing or the photography is, for me, still a fairly personal path. I tend to process ideas over a longer period than some, then quietly chip away at them, channelling through my work things I can’t always explain in discussion. I think my strength in working with others is more likely to be a piece of text or a photo that tells a story, rather than ‘discussed’ input as such – that may change, but my work seems to come from a part of me I don’t necessarily have access to in conversation form.
To spend two weeks immersed in this, in such a deeply inspiring place as Bundanon, has been an experience that will ripple through my life for some time.
This was an inspiring group of artists to spend time with, and I like to think we’ll be able to keep working together, even if loosely, under the life between buildings umbrella.
- Benjamin
Thursday, May 15
it's oh so quiet...
Actually, it's anything from quiet. My head is buzzing with ideas, thoughts and inspiration; my heart is singing and the world around me seems crazy and surreal...
We're back. If it's seemed a little quiet here at the life between buildings projects, it's not that we've slackened off. The internet went down in the last four days of our residency at Bundanon. Gasp. Horror. Just how did some of us cope... Well, it was tough. Believe me. But we survived. And we're now back grappling with the real world and yearning for quiet solitude, strolls along the river bank, wanders through the bush, and endless hours of creativity. Oh to be back in creative la la land again...
Anyhow, give us a few days to readjust back to the chaos of life and we'll tell you more about our last few days, along with some reflections about our residency.
In the meantime, pop on over to alittlehummingbird's and benjamin's photos to get a small taste of some of the things we captured on digital film.
We're back. If it's seemed a little quiet here at the life between buildings projects, it's not that we've slackened off. The internet went down in the last four days of our residency at Bundanon. Gasp. Horror. Just how did some of us cope... Well, it was tough. Believe me. But we survived. And we're now back grappling with the real world and yearning for quiet solitude, strolls along the river bank, wanders through the bush, and endless hours of creativity. Oh to be back in creative la la land again...
Anyhow, give us a few days to readjust back to the chaos of life and we'll tell you more about our last few days, along with some reflections about our residency.
In the meantime, pop on over to alittlehummingbird's and benjamin's photos to get a small taste of some of the things we captured on digital film.
Friday, May 9
Art and Environmental Sustainability discussion
I've reached a turning point in my creative practice and I'm confused about where to go next (you might want to read more about this over in a little hummingbird land). Reduce, reuse, recycle and educate is a mantra I've adopted in most areas of my life - transport, food consumption, communal living etc... Yet when it comes to art, I'm full of contradictions: I often use chemically-based paints on newly-acquired sweatshop-made canvasses; I'm creating material objects that people can add to their collection of consumerables
So what does it mean to make environmentallly sustainable creative work? Is it simply about the material we use? Or is it about artistic intention?
Jules, Rhi and I over the next few hours will chat online about our ideas on the function of art and their relation to environmental sustainability. Feel free join in with us!
So what does it mean to make environmentallly sustainable creative work? Is it simply about the material we use? Or is it about artistic intention?
Jules, Rhi and I over the next few hours will chat online about our ideas on the function of art and their relation to environmental sustainability. Feel free join in with us!
Thursday, May 8
Bundanon - Day Nine
I bounced out of bed at 7am yesterday, despite my insomnia pushing my body through until about 3am the previous night (crawling into bed at 5:30am isn’t unheard of around these parts either – who needs sleep at times like these!). Aside from wanting some alone time to reflect, I was keen to spend the morning by the river… To think about where I’m at, maybe take advantage of the soft morning light (for photography), but mostly just to meditate and soak up my surroundings. I was surprised at the amount of bird life by the shore – willy wag tails, magpies, wrens, kookaburras, king fishers, crimson rosellas all within a few metres of each other. To be a part of that! Wow!
Of course I wouldn’t dream of breaking the Bundanon Artist’s In Residency ‘no swimming’ rule, so I just…um…errr…danced naked across the sand and dipped my toes in? Yes, that’s what I did. The cold certainly didn’t force a sudden intake of breath as I dived in. And I didn’t shout songs of excitement to the birds as I spooned handfuls of icy water over my head. Neither was I able to experience the cool rush of water swirling around my naked body… so… um… yeah I just sat…. oops, I mean danced… and imagined all of the things that might have happened if I’d swum… As I basked in the sun pretending to let my imaginary drenched locks of hair dry, I watched a willy wag tail flit along the shores, glancing quizzically every so often in my direction (HA - he reminded me of the raven and goat that Boyd obsessively painted as a symbol of voyeurism). I wrote in my journal, took a few photos and breathed in deeply… Ah!
Anyway, it seems the sheer power of imagination made for a sensational day. The dreams of an entirely imaginary morning swim refreshed my mind and soothed my spirit. On returning to my studio, a few tangible ideas for writing began to emerge. Fingers itched. My pen began dancing wildly across the room. And so I wrote! Words. On paper. There’re still very raw, but I’ve started. It’s all very exciting.
Let me explain my excitement: I wasn’t sure how much writing I’d actually do while down here. Having experienced intense writer’s block in the last few months, I’d made the decision to focus on photography, painting and sculpture during the residency. In the lead up to the residency, however, I felt like my blockage was starting to dissipate. This was mostly due to a rediscovery of my passion for letter writing. Through a series of letters to a friend, I found words began flowing from my fingers again. It was a fascinating process. And prompted me to commit, while at Bundanon, to daily blogging and scrawling out morning pages. It’s still a slowly unravelling process, however, and I decided to only write creatively if my fingers started itching to throw words on the page. No expectations. No pressure. But this morning my fingers started itching! Hoorah!
These ten days have taught me a lot about my creative process. Like Julian, ‘lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas, and idly noodling’ – and I’d add, debating hardcore issues, cooking, reading, watching movies and teasing Jules himself – has been crucial for getting the creative juices flowing. Yet so often I’ll feel guilty if it isn’t immediately obviously that what I’m doing is directly productive towards my end goal. Here I’m learning that so much time for me is spent thinking conceptually about an idea – planning, discussing, exploring abstractly - the nitty gritty craftsmanship of creating a work, words on paper, paint on canvass, emerges much later. I love creating first in my head and bouncing those ideas around, exploring all the options and thinking laterally for further options… So talking, lounging around, cooking etc. are really important and valid! Hmm… brains are such strange things…
Speaking of my brain, the contents of it are currently sprawled across our newly acquired second art studio. Not actual brain bits, of course, just a symbolic representation. With paper, textas, nails and creative enthusiasm, I created a giant mind map of our song cycle/installation when I got back from my river adventure. It isn’t often that I have so much space to spread out, so why not! I also thought it was time for the group to start focusing in on our project. What was actually achievable? What ideas should we keep exploring? Were there actual components that we could start writing/composing? Who wanted to do what? What was the scale of the project? I figured having a central space to summarise our ideas – one drawing board rather than five – would be useful for 1. Ensuring that we are on the same wavelength, 2. Nutting out some achievable goals for the final four days of our residency, 3. Ensuring that we found a model that allowed each one of us to use our strengths to their advantage.
Our discussion in the evening demonstrated just how far we’ve come in finding a collaborative model that seems achievable, despite all our initial concerns. We’re finding ways of working together. We’re moving forward. There are still challenges ahead, but I think we’ve reached another turning point. I’m really excited.
We’re going on an adventure tonight… To sleep in the rundown shack across the paddock – the one in which the Swiss artist built her embroidery installation. A night of creative storytelling, poetry reading, insomnia, mandolin playing and – if Rhiannon actually manages to find her way ‘home’ this time – chocolate munching!
Dammit I don’t want to go home…
Of course I wouldn’t dream of breaking the Bundanon Artist’s In Residency ‘no swimming’ rule, so I just…um…errr…danced naked across the sand and dipped my toes in? Yes, that’s what I did. The cold certainly didn’t force a sudden intake of breath as I dived in. And I didn’t shout songs of excitement to the birds as I spooned handfuls of icy water over my head. Neither was I able to experience the cool rush of water swirling around my naked body… so… um… yeah I just sat…. oops, I mean danced… and imagined all of the things that might have happened if I’d swum… As I basked in the sun pretending to let my imaginary drenched locks of hair dry, I watched a willy wag tail flit along the shores, glancing quizzically every so often in my direction (HA - he reminded me of the raven and goat that Boyd obsessively painted as a symbol of voyeurism). I wrote in my journal, took a few photos and breathed in deeply… Ah!
Anyway, it seems the sheer power of imagination made for a sensational day. The dreams of an entirely imaginary morning swim refreshed my mind and soothed my spirit. On returning to my studio, a few tangible ideas for writing began to emerge. Fingers itched. My pen began dancing wildly across the room. And so I wrote! Words. On paper. There’re still very raw, but I’ve started. It’s all very exciting.
Let me explain my excitement: I wasn’t sure how much writing I’d actually do while down here. Having experienced intense writer’s block in the last few months, I’d made the decision to focus on photography, painting and sculpture during the residency. In the lead up to the residency, however, I felt like my blockage was starting to dissipate. This was mostly due to a rediscovery of my passion for letter writing. Through a series of letters to a friend, I found words began flowing from my fingers again. It was a fascinating process. And prompted me to commit, while at Bundanon, to daily blogging and scrawling out morning pages. It’s still a slowly unravelling process, however, and I decided to only write creatively if my fingers started itching to throw words on the page. No expectations. No pressure. But this morning my fingers started itching! Hoorah!
These ten days have taught me a lot about my creative process. Like Julian, ‘lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas, and idly noodling’ – and I’d add, debating hardcore issues, cooking, reading, watching movies and teasing Jules himself – has been crucial for getting the creative juices flowing. Yet so often I’ll feel guilty if it isn’t immediately obviously that what I’m doing is directly productive towards my end goal. Here I’m learning that so much time for me is spent thinking conceptually about an idea – planning, discussing, exploring abstractly - the nitty gritty craftsmanship of creating a work, words on paper, paint on canvass, emerges much later. I love creating first in my head and bouncing those ideas around, exploring all the options and thinking laterally for further options… So talking, lounging around, cooking etc. are really important and valid! Hmm… brains are such strange things…
Speaking of my brain, the contents of it are currently sprawled across our newly acquired second art studio. Not actual brain bits, of course, just a symbolic representation. With paper, textas, nails and creative enthusiasm, I created a giant mind map of our song cycle/installation when I got back from my river adventure. It isn’t often that I have so much space to spread out, so why not! I also thought it was time for the group to start focusing in on our project. What was actually achievable? What ideas should we keep exploring? Were there actual components that we could start writing/composing? Who wanted to do what? What was the scale of the project? I figured having a central space to summarise our ideas – one drawing board rather than five – would be useful for 1. Ensuring that we are on the same wavelength, 2. Nutting out some achievable goals for the final four days of our residency, 3. Ensuring that we found a model that allowed each one of us to use our strengths to their advantage.
Our discussion in the evening demonstrated just how far we’ve come in finding a collaborative model that seems achievable, despite all our initial concerns. We’re finding ways of working together. We’re moving forward. There are still challenges ahead, but I think we’ve reached another turning point. I’m really excited.
We’re going on an adventure tonight… To sleep in the rundown shack across the paddock – the one in which the Swiss artist built her embroidery installation. A night of creative storytelling, poetry reading, insomnia, mandolin playing and – if Rhiannon actually manages to find her way ‘home’ this time – chocolate munching!
Dammit I don’t want to go home…
Bundanon - Day Eight
I'm writing this entry two days late. In fact, that day was a bit of a washout for me; I was hungry, grumpy and tired and to be honest I can't remember much about it. So instead I'm going to share with you a few micro-observations from my last few days.
1. The Island
Apparently somewhere near here there is a mystical island that has held fascination for many of the AIRs (Artists In Residence - official Bundanon lingo). Yesterday I was passed by Maggie our English visual artist comrade, her shoes in hand and clothes hitched around her waist, whispering to me about her quest to wade to the island in question, high tide or not. Later Dan mentioned with eager wide eyes about the same fabled land.
This morning Rhi actually found the island and said it's no big deal.
2. Grasshopper.
Yesterday at dusk a green grasshopper flew out of nowhere and landed on my camera. Dan and I took about 90 or so photos of him. Or her. He (or she) was extremely photogenic and seemed to enjoy posing: lifting each leg one at a time and grinning the whole time. Good chap.
3. Pulpit Rock.
In recent months I've been obsessed with the time-lapse feature on my digital camera, taking endless shots of the Bendigo Prison before it closed. I have found very few interesting things to capture in this way here at Bundanon, however. My one idea has to mimic Arthur Boyd's obsession with Pulpit Rock, a fairly grand bunch of rocks on top of one of the biggest hills around here. He painted those rocks endlessly it seems, mostly captured at the scene from across the river. I've been doing the same from different times of the day using my camera. I've discovered that still this is a fairly uninteresting idea. The most interesting thing about it is the way that the water changes over time, prompting Danielle to suggest that that might be the angle I'm looking for. Perhaps. So far it's entailed braving endless lantana at high tide, although the resulting peace and quiet waiting for the shots to unravel has been really rewarding. Enforced reflection.
4. Snack.
I have lived an enforced Snack-free diet these past two days (i.e. Cadbury Snack, the cheapest and crummist chocolate around to which I am hopelessly addicted). Despite the fact that Rhiannon has gone on a Snack-run to Sydney for me I am doing surprisingly OK. Dan has helped by making me non-Vegan rice pudding as have others with their superb cooking. Except whoever took the extra mandarins this morning shall get a stern talking to.
5. Piano.
It has taken 10 or so days of lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas and idly noodling but I have really recaptured my interest in playing the piano. It's been great having a grand piano right outside my bedroom upon which I can muck around at any time of the day (except, it transpires, at 10am when certain people are sleeping).
That is all.
1. The Island
Apparently somewhere near here there is a mystical island that has held fascination for many of the AIRs (Artists In Residence - official Bundanon lingo). Yesterday I was passed by Maggie our English visual artist comrade, her shoes in hand and clothes hitched around her waist, whispering to me about her quest to wade to the island in question, high tide or not. Later Dan mentioned with eager wide eyes about the same fabled land.
This morning Rhi actually found the island and said it's no big deal.
2. Grasshopper.
Yesterday at dusk a green grasshopper flew out of nowhere and landed on my camera. Dan and I took about 90 or so photos of him. Or her. He (or she) was extremely photogenic and seemed to enjoy posing: lifting each leg one at a time and grinning the whole time. Good chap.
3. Pulpit Rock.
In recent months I've been obsessed with the time-lapse feature on my digital camera, taking endless shots of the Bendigo Prison before it closed. I have found very few interesting things to capture in this way here at Bundanon, however. My one idea has to mimic Arthur Boyd's obsession with Pulpit Rock, a fairly grand bunch of rocks on top of one of the biggest hills around here. He painted those rocks endlessly it seems, mostly captured at the scene from across the river. I've been doing the same from different times of the day using my camera. I've discovered that still this is a fairly uninteresting idea. The most interesting thing about it is the way that the water changes over time, prompting Danielle to suggest that that might be the angle I'm looking for. Perhaps. So far it's entailed braving endless lantana at high tide, although the resulting peace and quiet waiting for the shots to unravel has been really rewarding. Enforced reflection.
4. Snack.
I have lived an enforced Snack-free diet these past two days (i.e. Cadbury Snack, the cheapest and crummist chocolate around to which I am hopelessly addicted). Despite the fact that Rhiannon has gone on a Snack-run to Sydney for me I am doing surprisingly OK. Dan has helped by making me non-Vegan rice pudding as have others with their superb cooking. Except whoever took the extra mandarins this morning shall get a stern talking to.
5. Piano.
It has taken 10 or so days of lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas and idly noodling but I have really recaptured my interest in playing the piano. It's been great having a grand piano right outside my bedroom upon which I can muck around at any time of the day (except, it transpires, at 10am when certain people are sleeping).
That is all.
Forcing others to suffer for your art
The other night we watched Irreversible and Funny Games, two films that deliberately target our vulnerability to manipulation through our trust of the art object, or any structure for that matter. This has led to us to ideas of manipulating our audience in various ways - through disruption, playing with the theatrical 'fourth wall', toying with narrative flow, injecting 'twists' along the way, inflicting mild (and hopefully harmless) forms of torture, delaying or denying gratification, et al.
Irreversible played with this obviously through its structure (told backwards, so that your point of view towards the situations and your sense of empathy towards the characters need continual readjustment) but also through more insiduous means - the first 30 minutes, for instance, feature a sub-sonic tone imperceptable by the ear but felt strongly in the body, creating a very tangible sense of unrest, whereas the final 10 minutes feature very strong strobe lighting that could potentially trigger seizures in those suffering from photosensitive epilepsy (I think there's a warning to this effect on the DVD cover).
Whilst I have great empathy for people with epilepsy (my father being a sufferer) and would therefore never condone this, I nonetheless wonder if the following scenario taken from today's paper could be interesting to us from the 'disruption' point of view.
Hackers' posts designed to cause epileptic fits
Computer attacks typically do not inflict physical pain on their victims.
But in a rare example of an attack apparently motivated by malice rather than money, hackers recently bombarded the Epilepsy Foundation's website with hundreds of pictures and links to pages with rapidly flashing images.
The breach triggered severe migraines and near-seizure reactions in some site visitors who viewed the images. People with photosensitive epilepsy can get seizures when they're exposed to flickering images, a response also caused by some video games and cartoons.
The attack happened when hackers exploited a security hole in the foundation's publishing software that allowed them to quickly make numerous posts and overwhelm the site's support forums.
Within the hackers' posts were small flashing pictures and links - masquerading as helpful - to pages that exploded with kaleidoscopic images pulsating with different colors.
"They were out to create seizures," said Ken Lowenberg, senior director of Web and print publishing for the foundation, which is based in Landover, Maryland.
He said legitimate users are no longer able to post animated images to the support forum or create direct links to other sites, and it is now moderated around the clock. He said the FBI is investigating the breach.
Security experts said the attack highlights the dangers of websites giving visitors great freedom to post content to different parts of the site.
In another recent attack, hackers exploited a simple coding vulnerability in Senator Barack Obama's website to redirect users visiting the community blogs section to Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's official campaign site.
The hackers who infiltrated the Epilepsy Foundation's site did not appear to care about profit. The harmful pages did not appear to try to push down code that would allow the hacker to gain control of the victims' computers, for instance.
"I count this in the same category of teenagers who think it's funny to put a cat in a bag and throw it over a clothesline - they don't realize how cruel it is," said Paul Ferguson, a security researcher at antivirus software maker Trend Micro Inc. "It was an opportunity waiting to happen for some mean-spirited kid."
In a similar attack this year, a piece of malicious code was released that disabled software that reads text aloud from a computer screen for blind and visually impaired people. That attack appeared to have been designed to cripple the computers of people using illegal copies of the software, researchers said.
May 8, 2008 - 1:41PM
AP
Irreversible played with this obviously through its structure (told backwards, so that your point of view towards the situations and your sense of empathy towards the characters need continual readjustment) but also through more insiduous means - the first 30 minutes, for instance, feature a sub-sonic tone imperceptable by the ear but felt strongly in the body, creating a very tangible sense of unrest, whereas the final 10 minutes feature very strong strobe lighting that could potentially trigger seizures in those suffering from photosensitive epilepsy (I think there's a warning to this effect on the DVD cover).
Whilst I have great empathy for people with epilepsy (my father being a sufferer) and would therefore never condone this, I nonetheless wonder if the following scenario taken from today's paper could be interesting to us from the 'disruption' point of view.
Hackers' posts designed to cause epileptic fits
Computer attacks typically do not inflict physical pain on their victims.
But in a rare example of an attack apparently motivated by malice rather than money, hackers recently bombarded the Epilepsy Foundation's website with hundreds of pictures and links to pages with rapidly flashing images.
The breach triggered severe migraines and near-seizure reactions in some site visitors who viewed the images. People with photosensitive epilepsy can get seizures when they're exposed to flickering images, a response also caused by some video games and cartoons.
The attack happened when hackers exploited a security hole in the foundation's publishing software that allowed them to quickly make numerous posts and overwhelm the site's support forums.
Within the hackers' posts were small flashing pictures and links - masquerading as helpful - to pages that exploded with kaleidoscopic images pulsating with different colors.
"They were out to create seizures," said Ken Lowenberg, senior director of Web and print publishing for the foundation, which is based in Landover, Maryland.
He said legitimate users are no longer able to post animated images to the support forum or create direct links to other sites, and it is now moderated around the clock. He said the FBI is investigating the breach.
Security experts said the attack highlights the dangers of websites giving visitors great freedom to post content to different parts of the site.
In another recent attack, hackers exploited a simple coding vulnerability in Senator Barack Obama's website to redirect users visiting the community blogs section to Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's official campaign site.
The hackers who infiltrated the Epilepsy Foundation's site did not appear to care about profit. The harmful pages did not appear to try to push down code that would allow the hacker to gain control of the victims' computers, for instance.
"I count this in the same category of teenagers who think it's funny to put a cat in a bag and throw it over a clothesline - they don't realize how cruel it is," said Paul Ferguson, a security researcher at antivirus software maker Trend Micro Inc. "It was an opportunity waiting to happen for some mean-spirited kid."
In a similar attack this year, a piece of malicious code was released that disabled software that reads text aloud from a computer screen for blind and visually impaired people. That attack appeared to have been designed to cripple the computers of people using illegal copies of the software, researchers said.
May 8, 2008 - 1:41PM
AP
The Digestive System
Hey groop,
A short article on digestion I found on line for your 'digestion'.
Jx
Overview
To supply the body with the materials it needs for energy and the building of new tissue, nutrients have to pass through the digestive system. The latter is composed of organs (an organ being a group of tissues and cells, organized into a particular structure, that performs a specific function within an organism) and other structures through which nutrients move. The nutrients pass first through the mouth and then through the esophagus, stomach, small intestine, and large intestine, or colon. Collectively, these structures are known as the alimentary canal.
Nutrients advance through the alimentary canal to the stomach and small intestine, and waste materials continue from the small intestine to the colon (large intestine) and anus. Along the way, several glands play a role. A gland is a cell or group of cells that filters material from the blood, processes that material, and secretes it either for use again in the body or to be eliminated as waste. Among the glands that play a part in the digestive process are the salivary glands, liver, gallbladder, and pancreas. (The last three are examples of glands that are also organs.) The glands with a role in digestion secrete digestive juices containing enzymes that break down nutrients chemically into smaller molecules that are absorbed more easily by the body. There are also hormones involved in digestion-there are, for example, glandular cells in the lining of the stomach that make the hormone gastrin.
From the Mouth to the Stomach
The first stage of digestion is ingestion, in which food is taken into the mouth and then broken down into smaller pieces by the chewing action of the teeth. To facilitate movement of the food through the mouth and along the tongue, it is necessary for saliva to be present. Usually, the sensations of sight, taste, and smell associated with food set in motion a series of neural responses that induce the formation of saliva by the salivary glands in the mouth. Amylase, an enzyme in the saliva, begins the process of breaking complex carbohydrates into simple sugars. (The terms simple and complex in this context refer to chemical structures.)
By the time it is ready to be swallowed, food is in the form of a soft mass known as a bolus. The action of swallowing pulls the food down through the pharynx, or throat, and into the esophagus, a tube that extends from the bottom of the throat to the top of the stomach. (Note that for the most part, we are using human anatomy as a guide, but many aspects of the digestive process described here also apply to other higher animals, particularly mammals.) The esophagus does not take part in digestion but rather performs the function of moving the bolus into the stomach.
A wavelike muscular motion termed peristalsis, which consists of alternating contractions and relaxations of the smooth muscles lining the esophagus, moves the bolus through this passage. At the place where the esophagus meets the stomach, a powerful muscle called the esophageal sphincter acts as a valve to keep food and stomach acids from flowing back into the esophagus and mouth. (Although the most well-known sphincter muscle in the body is the one surrounding the anus, sometimes known simply as " the sphincter," in fact, sphincter is a general term for a muscle that surrounds, and is able to control the size of, a bodily opening.)
From the Stomach to the Small Intestine
Chemical digestion begins in the stomach, a large, hollow, pouchlike muscular organ. While food is still in the mouth, the stomach begins its production of gastric juice, which contains hydrochloric acid and pepsin, an enzyme that digests protein. Gastric juice is the material that breaks down the food. Once nerves in the cheeks and tongue are stimulated by the food, they send messages to the brain, which, in turn, alerts nerves in the stomach wall, stimulating the secretion of gastric juice before the bolus itself arrives in the stomach. Once the bolus touches the stomach lining, it triggers a second release of gastric juice, along with mucus that helps protect the stomach lining from the action of the hydrochloric acid. Three layers of powerful stomach muscles churn food into a thick liquid called chyme, which is pumped gradually through the pyloric sphincter, which connects the stomach small intestine.
The Small Intestine
The names of the small and large intestines can be confusing, rather like those of Upper and Lower Egypt in ancient history. In both cases, the adjectives seem to refer to one thing but actually refer to something else entirely. Thus, it so happens that Upper Egypt was south of Lower Egypt (because it was "upper" in elevation, not latitude), while the small intestine is, in fact, much longer than the large intestine. The reason is that small refers to its diameter rather than its length: though it is about 23 ft. (7 m) long, the small intestine is only 1 in. (2.5 cm) in diameter, while the large intestine, only 5 ft. (1.5 m) in length, is 3 in. (7.6 cm) across.
The small intestine, which connects the stomach and large intestine, is in three sections: the duodenum, jejunum, and ileum. About 1 ft. (0.3 m) long, the duodenum breaks down chyme from the stomach with the aid of the pancreas and gallbladder. The pancreas, a large gland located below the stomach, secretes pancreatic juice, which contains three enzymes that break down carbohydrates, fats, and proteins, into the duodenum through the pancreatic duct. The gallbladder empties bile, a yellowish or greenish fluid from the liver, into the duodenum when chyme enters that portion of the intestine. Although bile does not contain enzymes, it does have bile salts that help dissolve fats.
Digested carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and most of the vitamins, minerals, and iron in food are absorbed in the jejunum, which is about 4 ft. (1.2 m) long. Aiding this absorption are up to five million tiny finger-like projections called villi, which greatly increase the surface area of the small intestine, thus accelerating the rate at which nutrients are absorbed into the bloodstream. The remainder of the small intestine is taken up by the ileum, which is smaller in diameter and has thinner walls than the jejunum. It is the final site for absorption of some vitamins and other nutrients, which enter the circulatory system in plasma, a watery liquid in which red blood cells also are suspended.
As it moves through the circulatory system, plasma takes with it amino acids, enzymes, glycerol (a form of alcohol found in fats), and fatty acids, which it directs to the body's tissues for energy and growth. Plasma also contains waste products from the breakdown of proteins, including creatinine, uric acid, and ammonium salts. These constituents are moved to the kidneys, where they are filtered from the blood and excreted in the urine. But, of course, urine is not the only waste product excreted by the body; there is also the solid waste, processed through the large intestine, or colon.
The Large Intestine and Beyond
Like the small intestine, the large intestine is in segments. It rises up on the right side of the body (the ascending colon), crosses over to the other side underneath the stomach (the transverse colon), descends on the left side, (the descending colon), and forms an S shape (the sigmoid colon) before reaching the rectum and anus. In addition to its function of pumping solid waste, the large intestine removes water from the waste products—water that, when purified, will be returned to the bloodstream. In addition, millions of bacteria in the large intestine help produce certain B vitamins and vitamin K, which are absorbed into the bloodstream along with the water.
After leaving the sigmoid colon, waste passes through the muscular rectum and then the anus, the last point along the alimentary canal. In all, the movement of food through the entire length of the alimentary tract takes from 15 to 30 hours, with the majority of that time being taken up by activity in the colon. Food generally spends about three to five hours in the stomach, another four to five hours in the small intestine, and between five and 25 hours in the large intestine.
The transit time, or the amount of time it takes for food to move through the system, is a function of diet: for a vegetarian who eats a great deal of fiber, it will be on the short end, while for a meat eater who has just consumed a dinner of prime rib, it will take close to the maximum time. People who eat diets heavy in red meat or junk foods are also likely to experience a buildup, over time, of partially digested material on the linings of their intestines. Obviously, this is not a healthy situation, and to turn it around, a person may have to change his or her diet and perhaps even undergo some sort of colon-cleansing program. There is an easy way to test transit time in one's system: simply eat a large serving of corn or red beets, and measure how long it takes for these to fully work their way through the digestive system.
www.answers.com
A short article on digestion I found on line for your 'digestion'.
Jx
Overview
To supply the body with the materials it needs for energy and the building of new tissue, nutrients have to pass through the digestive system. The latter is composed of organs (an organ being a group of tissues and cells, organized into a particular structure, that performs a specific function within an organism) and other structures through which nutrients move. The nutrients pass first through the mouth and then through the esophagus, stomach, small intestine, and large intestine, or colon. Collectively, these structures are known as the alimentary canal.
Nutrients advance through the alimentary canal to the stomach and small intestine, and waste materials continue from the small intestine to the colon (large intestine) and anus. Along the way, several glands play a role. A gland is a cell or group of cells that filters material from the blood, processes that material, and secretes it either for use again in the body or to be eliminated as waste. Among the glands that play a part in the digestive process are the salivary glands, liver, gallbladder, and pancreas. (The last three are examples of glands that are also organs.) The glands with a role in digestion secrete digestive juices containing enzymes that break down nutrients chemically into smaller molecules that are absorbed more easily by the body. There are also hormones involved in digestion-there are, for example, glandular cells in the lining of the stomach that make the hormone gastrin.
From the Mouth to the Stomach
The first stage of digestion is ingestion, in which food is taken into the mouth and then broken down into smaller pieces by the chewing action of the teeth. To facilitate movement of the food through the mouth and along the tongue, it is necessary for saliva to be present. Usually, the sensations of sight, taste, and smell associated with food set in motion a series of neural responses that induce the formation of saliva by the salivary glands in the mouth. Amylase, an enzyme in the saliva, begins the process of breaking complex carbohydrates into simple sugars. (The terms simple and complex in this context refer to chemical structures.)
By the time it is ready to be swallowed, food is in the form of a soft mass known as a bolus. The action of swallowing pulls the food down through the pharynx, or throat, and into the esophagus, a tube that extends from the bottom of the throat to the top of the stomach. (Note that for the most part, we are using human anatomy as a guide, but many aspects of the digestive process described here also apply to other higher animals, particularly mammals.) The esophagus does not take part in digestion but rather performs the function of moving the bolus into the stomach.
A wavelike muscular motion termed peristalsis, which consists of alternating contractions and relaxations of the smooth muscles lining the esophagus, moves the bolus through this passage. At the place where the esophagus meets the stomach, a powerful muscle called the esophageal sphincter acts as a valve to keep food and stomach acids from flowing back into the esophagus and mouth. (Although the most well-known sphincter muscle in the body is the one surrounding the anus, sometimes known simply as " the sphincter," in fact, sphincter is a general term for a muscle that surrounds, and is able to control the size of, a bodily opening.)
From the Stomach to the Small Intestine
Chemical digestion begins in the stomach, a large, hollow, pouchlike muscular organ. While food is still in the mouth, the stomach begins its production of gastric juice, which contains hydrochloric acid and pepsin, an enzyme that digests protein. Gastric juice is the material that breaks down the food. Once nerves in the cheeks and tongue are stimulated by the food, they send messages to the brain, which, in turn, alerts nerves in the stomach wall, stimulating the secretion of gastric juice before the bolus itself arrives in the stomach. Once the bolus touches the stomach lining, it triggers a second release of gastric juice, along with mucus that helps protect the stomach lining from the action of the hydrochloric acid. Three layers of powerful stomach muscles churn food into a thick liquid called chyme, which is pumped gradually through the pyloric sphincter, which connects the stomach small intestine.
The Small Intestine
The names of the small and large intestines can be confusing, rather like those of Upper and Lower Egypt in ancient history. In both cases, the adjectives seem to refer to one thing but actually refer to something else entirely. Thus, it so happens that Upper Egypt was south of Lower Egypt (because it was "upper" in elevation, not latitude), while the small intestine is, in fact, much longer than the large intestine. The reason is that small refers to its diameter rather than its length: though it is about 23 ft. (7 m) long, the small intestine is only 1 in. (2.5 cm) in diameter, while the large intestine, only 5 ft. (1.5 m) in length, is 3 in. (7.6 cm) across.
The small intestine, which connects the stomach and large intestine, is in three sections: the duodenum, jejunum, and ileum. About 1 ft. (0.3 m) long, the duodenum breaks down chyme from the stomach with the aid of the pancreas and gallbladder. The pancreas, a large gland located below the stomach, secretes pancreatic juice, which contains three enzymes that break down carbohydrates, fats, and proteins, into the duodenum through the pancreatic duct. The gallbladder empties bile, a yellowish or greenish fluid from the liver, into the duodenum when chyme enters that portion of the intestine. Although bile does not contain enzymes, it does have bile salts that help dissolve fats.
Digested carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and most of the vitamins, minerals, and iron in food are absorbed in the jejunum, which is about 4 ft. (1.2 m) long. Aiding this absorption are up to five million tiny finger-like projections called villi, which greatly increase the surface area of the small intestine, thus accelerating the rate at which nutrients are absorbed into the bloodstream. The remainder of the small intestine is taken up by the ileum, which is smaller in diameter and has thinner walls than the jejunum. It is the final site for absorption of some vitamins and other nutrients, which enter the circulatory system in plasma, a watery liquid in which red blood cells also are suspended.
As it moves through the circulatory system, plasma takes with it amino acids, enzymes, glycerol (a form of alcohol found in fats), and fatty acids, which it directs to the body's tissues for energy and growth. Plasma also contains waste products from the breakdown of proteins, including creatinine, uric acid, and ammonium salts. These constituents are moved to the kidneys, where they are filtered from the blood and excreted in the urine. But, of course, urine is not the only waste product excreted by the body; there is also the solid waste, processed through the large intestine, or colon.
The Large Intestine and Beyond
Like the small intestine, the large intestine is in segments. It rises up on the right side of the body (the ascending colon), crosses over to the other side underneath the stomach (the transverse colon), descends on the left side, (the descending colon), and forms an S shape (the sigmoid colon) before reaching the rectum and anus. In addition to its function of pumping solid waste, the large intestine removes water from the waste products—water that, when purified, will be returned to the bloodstream. In addition, millions of bacteria in the large intestine help produce certain B vitamins and vitamin K, which are absorbed into the bloodstream along with the water.
After leaving the sigmoid colon, waste passes through the muscular rectum and then the anus, the last point along the alimentary canal. In all, the movement of food through the entire length of the alimentary tract takes from 15 to 30 hours, with the majority of that time being taken up by activity in the colon. Food generally spends about three to five hours in the stomach, another four to five hours in the small intestine, and between five and 25 hours in the large intestine.
The transit time, or the amount of time it takes for food to move through the system, is a function of diet: for a vegetarian who eats a great deal of fiber, it will be on the short end, while for a meat eater who has just consumed a dinner of prime rib, it will take close to the maximum time. People who eat diets heavy in red meat or junk foods are also likely to experience a buildup, over time, of partially digested material on the linings of their intestines. Obviously, this is not a healthy situation, and to turn it around, a person may have to change his or her diet and perhaps even undergo some sort of colon-cleansing program. There is an easy way to test transit time in one's system: simply eat a large serving of corn or red beets, and measure how long it takes for these to fully work their way through the digestive system.
www.answers.com
Wednesday, May 7
two pepper jack barbecue burgers with crispy onions, baked potatoes with sour cream, bacon and cheese, and a large strawberry milkshake
I found this article in today's paper:
US executes first inmate since moratorium
May 7, 2008 - 10:47AM
Georgia has executed a convicted murderer, the first person to be put to death in the United States since the Supreme Court ended a de facto moratorium on capital punishment last month.
William Earl Lynd died by lethal injection at a prison in Jackson, central Georgia, at 7.51pm (0951 AEST) today. Lynd, 53, was convicted of shooting his girlfriend to death in December 1988, said a spokeswoman for the prisons department.
In the hours before he died, the US Supreme Court rejected a final request for a stay of execution filed by Lynd's lawyers.
Lynd's execution is the first since the same court on April 16 rejected a challenge to the cocktail of three drugs used in most US executions, which opponents had argued inflicted unnecessary pain.
A nationwide pause in executions had been in effect since shortly after the court said on September 25 it would hear an appeal by two death row inmates in Kentucky against the use of the lethal drugs.
Last year, 42 people were executed, the lowest number since 1994 when 31 were put to death. But the 2007 number was artificially low because of the Supreme Court case.
Fewer than 20 protesters who oppose the death penalty demonstrated outside the prison in Jackson where Lynd was executed in an apparent indication that the subject arouses few passions.
Demonstrators said they also planned protests in five other cities in the state.
After shooting Ginger Moore three times in the head and face, Lynd buried her in a shallow grave. Soon afterward, as he drove to Ohio, he allegedly shot and killed another woman but was never convicted of that crime.
The Georgia Supreme Court on Tuesday rejected a bid by Lynd's lawyers to stop the execution. They argued that experts who described the murder scene in court had exaggerated.
Several states have scheduled executions since the moratorium ended, including Virginia and Texas, which carries out more executions than any other state.
Lynd is the 1,100th person put to death since the Supreme Court lifted a temporary ban on capital punishment in 1976. Since then, Texas has had 405 executions, followed by Virginia with 98.
Lynd's last meal consisted of two pepper jack barbecue burgers with crispy onions, baked potatoes with sour cream, bacon and cheese, and a large strawberry milkshake, prison authorities said.
Reuters
US executes first inmate since moratorium
May 7, 2008 - 10:47AM
Georgia has executed a convicted murderer, the first person to be put to death in the United States since the Supreme Court ended a de facto moratorium on capital punishment last month.
William Earl Lynd died by lethal injection at a prison in Jackson, central Georgia, at 7.51pm (0951 AEST) today. Lynd, 53, was convicted of shooting his girlfriend to death in December 1988, said a spokeswoman for the prisons department.
In the hours before he died, the US Supreme Court rejected a final request for a stay of execution filed by Lynd's lawyers.
Lynd's execution is the first since the same court on April 16 rejected a challenge to the cocktail of three drugs used in most US executions, which opponents had argued inflicted unnecessary pain.
A nationwide pause in executions had been in effect since shortly after the court said on September 25 it would hear an appeal by two death row inmates in Kentucky against the use of the lethal drugs.
Last year, 42 people were executed, the lowest number since 1994 when 31 were put to death. But the 2007 number was artificially low because of the Supreme Court case.
Fewer than 20 protesters who oppose the death penalty demonstrated outside the prison in Jackson where Lynd was executed in an apparent indication that the subject arouses few passions.
Demonstrators said they also planned protests in five other cities in the state.
After shooting Ginger Moore three times in the head and face, Lynd buried her in a shallow grave. Soon afterward, as he drove to Ohio, he allegedly shot and killed another woman but was never convicted of that crime.
The Georgia Supreme Court on Tuesday rejected a bid by Lynd's lawyers to stop the execution. They argued that experts who described the murder scene in court had exaggerated.
Several states have scheduled executions since the moratorium ended, including Virginia and Texas, which carries out more executions than any other state.
Lynd is the 1,100th person put to death since the Supreme Court lifted a temporary ban on capital punishment in 1976. Since then, Texas has had 405 executions, followed by Virginia with 98.
Lynd's last meal consisted of two pepper jack barbecue burgers with crispy onions, baked potatoes with sour cream, bacon and cheese, and a large strawberry milkshake, prison authorities said.
Reuters
Tuesday, May 6
not so grey
Today marked the seventh day of our Bundanon stay, so why does it feel like we just got here?
I realised upon waking that while I had walked back and forth across the property many a time, had traversed its open fields, dipped a toe in its river, skirted its grand homestead and returned many times to the swallowing bush, I still felt strangely disconnected from the environs.
The visual sweep down from our cottage to the homestead and the river beyond, back up the treed ridge on the far side of the river, allows us to see much of the 300 cleared acres of the working farm. While perched on the very edge of the bush – which makes up the bulk of the 1100 hectare property – the cottage has its back turned to the trees. It’s their presence I feel strongest, but until today it had been a looming feeling rather than a deep awareness. I could hear the birds and had seen plenty of the kangaroos, wombats and even snakes that came and went, but all my time in there had been active; imposing art ideas and projects without spending enough time doing another of the things which I had come here to do – listen, learning, find what inspiration it could impart.
I realised in doing so, I was repeating a lot of the mistakes artists made early in Australian colonial history – their cultural and artistic baggage so heavily laden with British sensibilities that they – quite literally – couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Paintings from that era, pastoral projections onto an untameable bush, build from a palette entirely unsuitable for the subject matter; pastel tones and wan light borrowed straight from a British sky that simply does not exist here. I was reminded of a discussion with a Brazilian photographer who is often criticised because the skies in his photographs are deemed ‘ too blue’ – it seems we cannot conceive what exists outside our own engagement, comprehension and direct experience.
I wasn’t bringing this particular sensibility, but I certainly hadn’t taken the time or set up the mind space for meaningful exchange. I had come with ideas for how to interact and ploughed on with them with barely a moment to see what suggestions it might make.
Feeling it was time to try and move beyond the same mistakes, I took a new route up the ridge to an area of the bush I’d not yet visited. Clearing my mind of potential projects, of photographic or textual possibilities, I was there simply to be. To see, hear, touch and smell, though stopping short of taste. I wanted to hear what the bush had to say, before trying to speak for it.
Selecting a place in a small clearing, beneath a towering silver gum, I lay, considering what I saw and how it compared to D.H Lawrence’s description in Kangaroo:
But the bush, the grey charred bush... It was so phantom-like, so ghostly, with its tall pale trees and many dead trees, like corpses, partly charred by bushfires... And then it was so deathly still. Even the few birds seemed to be swamped in silence. Waiting, waiting – the bush seemed to be hoarily waiting... it was biding its time with a terrible ageless watchfulness, waiting for a far-off end, watching the myriad intruding white men.
Was this accurate? Did it capture something essential about the harsh, unforgiving, unlovable Australian bush? Not from what I could see.
The green of fern of leaf of palm of moss of mottled bark; the countless browns of stripping bark of fallen leaves, their neighbours orange and red. Purple toadstool red berry golden sun silver gum cobalt sky. The white of flowering gums, the black of soil below – the one colour I couldn’t find was grey.
There were ghosts and phantoms aplenty, but these corpses spoke not of death but of life – every corpse-like tree and charred stump was swamped by viridian ferns and proud gums, played host to teaming life.
In place of stillness or silence was a ceaseless treetop chatter, gum tree crowns rustling their rasping dry leaves, while from beneath the soil a sub-aural hum, worms and ants and termites and beetles (not to mention the ubiquitous Bundanon wombats) rumbling about their business.
A passing fly with buzz in trail showed the first sign of life between soil and sky, but was soon joined by the melodious melange that made up even this tiny segment of bush. In the space of a few minutes, my ear slowly attuning to their song, there were chirps, twitters, flute-pitched whistles, twitches, wit-woos, zupzups, vupps, tzetzetzes, zharps and a dozen more songs that leave our alphabet adrift in their sonorous wake – the further from our language and ability to replicate they were, the more indelible their mark.
At first I couldn’t see from where any of these sounds were coming, but a few minutes of lying still and they soon started to emerge, swooping, fluttering and flapping their way across the clearing, from tree to tree and branch to branch, adorned in feathers blue, brown, red, orange, gold and green.
Amidst all of this, thinking once more of this ‘grey’ nothingness, fell a peerless light, a gold and silver gilt; dappled streaks of honeyed tones that seemed a rich and precious gift.
Seven days in, I had finally arrived at Bundanon.
- Benjamin
I realised upon waking that while I had walked back and forth across the property many a time, had traversed its open fields, dipped a toe in its river, skirted its grand homestead and returned many times to the swallowing bush, I still felt strangely disconnected from the environs.
The visual sweep down from our cottage to the homestead and the river beyond, back up the treed ridge on the far side of the river, allows us to see much of the 300 cleared acres of the working farm. While perched on the very edge of the bush – which makes up the bulk of the 1100 hectare property – the cottage has its back turned to the trees. It’s their presence I feel strongest, but until today it had been a looming feeling rather than a deep awareness. I could hear the birds and had seen plenty of the kangaroos, wombats and even snakes that came and went, but all my time in there had been active; imposing art ideas and projects without spending enough time doing another of the things which I had come here to do – listen, learning, find what inspiration it could impart.
I realised in doing so, I was repeating a lot of the mistakes artists made early in Australian colonial history – their cultural and artistic baggage so heavily laden with British sensibilities that they – quite literally – couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Paintings from that era, pastoral projections onto an untameable bush, build from a palette entirely unsuitable for the subject matter; pastel tones and wan light borrowed straight from a British sky that simply does not exist here. I was reminded of a discussion with a Brazilian photographer who is often criticised because the skies in his photographs are deemed ‘ too blue’ – it seems we cannot conceive what exists outside our own engagement, comprehension and direct experience.
I wasn’t bringing this particular sensibility, but I certainly hadn’t taken the time or set up the mind space for meaningful exchange. I had come with ideas for how to interact and ploughed on with them with barely a moment to see what suggestions it might make.
Feeling it was time to try and move beyond the same mistakes, I took a new route up the ridge to an area of the bush I’d not yet visited. Clearing my mind of potential projects, of photographic or textual possibilities, I was there simply to be. To see, hear, touch and smell, though stopping short of taste. I wanted to hear what the bush had to say, before trying to speak for it.
Selecting a place in a small clearing, beneath a towering silver gum, I lay, considering what I saw and how it compared to D.H Lawrence’s description in Kangaroo:
But the bush, the grey charred bush... It was so phantom-like, so ghostly, with its tall pale trees and many dead trees, like corpses, partly charred by bushfires... And then it was so deathly still. Even the few birds seemed to be swamped in silence. Waiting, waiting – the bush seemed to be hoarily waiting... it was biding its time with a terrible ageless watchfulness, waiting for a far-off end, watching the myriad intruding white men.
Was this accurate? Did it capture something essential about the harsh, unforgiving, unlovable Australian bush? Not from what I could see.
The green of fern of leaf of palm of moss of mottled bark; the countless browns of stripping bark of fallen leaves, their neighbours orange and red. Purple toadstool red berry golden sun silver gum cobalt sky. The white of flowering gums, the black of soil below – the one colour I couldn’t find was grey.
There were ghosts and phantoms aplenty, but these corpses spoke not of death but of life – every corpse-like tree and charred stump was swamped by viridian ferns and proud gums, played host to teaming life.
In place of stillness or silence was a ceaseless treetop chatter, gum tree crowns rustling their rasping dry leaves, while from beneath the soil a sub-aural hum, worms and ants and termites and beetles (not to mention the ubiquitous Bundanon wombats) rumbling about their business.
A passing fly with buzz in trail showed the first sign of life between soil and sky, but was soon joined by the melodious melange that made up even this tiny segment of bush. In the space of a few minutes, my ear slowly attuning to their song, there were chirps, twitters, flute-pitched whistles, twitches, wit-woos, zupzups, vupps, tzetzetzes, zharps and a dozen more songs that leave our alphabet adrift in their sonorous wake – the further from our language and ability to replicate they were, the more indelible their mark.
At first I couldn’t see from where any of these sounds were coming, but a few minutes of lying still and they soon started to emerge, swooping, fluttering and flapping their way across the clearing, from tree to tree and branch to branch, adorned in feathers blue, brown, red, orange, gold and green.
Amidst all of this, thinking once more of this ‘grey’ nothingness, fell a peerless light, a gold and silver gilt; dappled streaks of honeyed tones that seemed a rich and precious gift.
Seven days in, I had finally arrived at Bundanon.
- Benjamin
Monday, May 5
Sunday, May 4
Bundanon - Day Six
Food is something I'm very passionate about. Vegan cooking and talking about food ethics is a huge part of my existence. So the idea that was thrown around yesterday about a song cycle focusing on the narrative about the last meal of someone who is about to die (in response to "the last moments of life") has been haunting me...
In conjunction with this idea, I've been thinking about how we could present the song cycle + images (our major group project) in a more cohesive way than a conventional concert setting with screen back drop, or a concept album with accompanying cover art. One idea I've had is a "dinner party installation". The installation would be the creation of a dining room, which would stand alone as an exhibition. The room could reflect the life of our protagonist (eg. through the selection of books on the bookshelf, type of decor, meal choice) as well as being a space to present some of our Bundanon work - there's the potential for a lot of symbolism and layers, which is something we've all been drawn to in the last week...
At various times throughout the exhibition viewers could participate in a "meal sitting". The "meal sitting" would be the presentation of the song cycle, which would occur concurrently with the serving of a four course meal which we've cooked ourselves: the last meal of our character (the singer) is actually shared with dinner guests (the audience, who become performers in the installation)... The meal courses could define the structure of the song cycle and perhaps we could explore different narrative techniuqes so that the drama unfolds in a way that the viewers don't realise this is the last meal until desert... We've been watching a few different films which play with manipulating the psychology of the viewer and exploring with non-linear narrative and these ideas seem to be influencing a lot of my ideas...
Aside from the obvious biblical connotations (which Boyd himself has explored throughout his works), there are also many connections with various films and plays (eg. Chocolat, The Last Supper, Delicatessen). And there is an interesting irony in the fact that food is usually associated with human connection and building community, but in this context it highlights separation and loss.
I think it's a fun idea to at least explore and it would be interesting to set ourselves some environmentally challenges when creating the room: eg. all the furniture might be hard rubbish; food might be vegan...
In conjunction with this idea, I've been thinking about how we could present the song cycle + images (our major group project) in a more cohesive way than a conventional concert setting with screen back drop, or a concept album with accompanying cover art. One idea I've had is a "dinner party installation". The installation would be the creation of a dining room, which would stand alone as an exhibition. The room could reflect the life of our protagonist (eg. through the selection of books on the bookshelf, type of decor, meal choice) as well as being a space to present some of our Bundanon work - there's the potential for a lot of symbolism and layers, which is something we've all been drawn to in the last week...
At various times throughout the exhibition viewers could participate in a "meal sitting". The "meal sitting" would be the presentation of the song cycle, which would occur concurrently with the serving of a four course meal which we've cooked ourselves: the last meal of our character (the singer) is actually shared with dinner guests (the audience, who become performers in the installation)... The meal courses could define the structure of the song cycle and perhaps we could explore different narrative techniuqes so that the drama unfolds in a way that the viewers don't realise this is the last meal until desert... We've been watching a few different films which play with manipulating the psychology of the viewer and exploring with non-linear narrative and these ideas seem to be influencing a lot of my ideas...
Aside from the obvious biblical connotations (which Boyd himself has explored throughout his works), there are also many connections with various films and plays (eg. Chocolat, The Last Supper, Delicatessen). And there is an interesting irony in the fact that food is usually associated with human connection and building community, but in this context it highlights separation and loss.
I think it's a fun idea to at least explore and it would be interesting to set ourselves some environmentally challenges when creating the room: eg. all the furniture might be hard rubbish; food might be vegan...
Saturday, May 3
An exhibition opening and the long dinner party afterwards
Today we finally met properly with the other artists at Bundanon. There are the five in our group, and in addition to that there are two German writers, a Swiss visual artist/jeweller, an Indigenous photographer and an English visual artist.
The Swiss artist is coming to the end of her four week residency and she put on an impromptu exhibition so that we could see what she had been working on over that time. She had fallen in love with the Australian bush and many of her works brought together the bush and aspects of colonialism/settlement.
One of the works she had created she had earlier set up in the Singleman’s Hut. This hut is a simple, one room hut made out of rough hewn planks. She had placed doilies on the walls and on the table had placed beautiful Australian nuts/seed pods which she had crocheted into flowers. The table was set up to include the crotched objects, a long, steel crochet needle and a pair of small, surgical looking scissors.
I discussed the work with the artist in the morning and commented on the scissors and how the surgical nature of the scissors had reminded me of the precision and skill with which women create their handicrafts. She explained to me that the scissors were the only ones she had and she wasn’t sure about the surgical connotations this had invoked in the work. That evening, when we discussed the work again, she admitted that after our discussion she was reconsidering whether or not the scissors should be excluded from the artwork. Afterwards, she photographed it with and then without the scissors and she told me that night that she would later consider the photos in detail before deciding which she wished to use. The conversation we had was a fun sharing of ideas and of interpretations.
All of the artists in residence attended the ‘exhibition’. I had a chance to meet the writers, who I had not yet spoken to, and to have longer conversations with the other artists. What initially was intended to be just an ‘exhibition’ extended to dinner and over five hours of conversation and sharing of ideas.
I was particularly excited to have the opportunity to discuss screenplays and radioplays with one of the German writers, as I am writing my first radioplay. He had written a number of radioplays and gave me some good tips. I wish, however, that I could speak German as it seems that there is still a strong radioplay culture there (though he did admit that younger people are less interested in the form). There are 15 or 17 publicly funded broadcasters and it is these, rather than the commercial stations, that are producing radioplays. The radioplays are produced with detailed sound effects, sound, music, movement, etc. This differs from the ‘book reading’ approach more common over here where the play is read through and a small amount of music added in a few places. The way it was described to me was that it was like making a film without having the screen (the pictures).
I really enjoyed the chance to share ideas and to find out about how people created their art and how they balanced that with finding a way to make money (which was only occasionally achieved through their favoured artform).
The day was also an excellent one because the previous night our group had decided on the nature of our group project. We agreed to work on a song cycle with images (ie photos that would be projected while the work was sung). It will be for one singer and probably computer backing. We looked at a thematic link of “the last moments of death”.
Rhi, Dan and Julian had watched Memento and discussed ideas of form and structure (Memento, of course, being a film where the story moves backwards in time and thus being an example of an unusual structure). During their discussions they were drawn to the idea of working with 25 songs, being grouped into 5 large groups (ie 5 x 5 = 25).
Rhi, Ben and I spent the morning working on lyrics for the song cycle and then I spent the afternoon composing some songs based on those lyrics. Rhi is also keen to start composing. Julian spent his time coming up with ideas on the piano and blogging. Dan spent most of the day in the studio and also discussing ideas. Our studio is now covered with items from Bundanon: bark, seed pods, dried leaves and strange spindly objects. The southern wall is covered with ideas for the song cycle and some of the lyrics which Ben wrote in the morning. I really like the idea for the song cycle and I’m looking forward to hearing people’s works and seeing different interpretations on the same subject.
Serena.
early morning rambles...
Jules, Rhi and I were still up to the wee hours of this morning... I'm sure the mountains of chocolate have something to do with it... but night owls we are three...
Part of our conversation evolved quite organically into ideas for the group song cycle. Here is the freely flowing random list:
* Five sections which revolve around 5 different characters. One of these is the narrator who speaks from a very objective perspective. Eventually the viewer would realise this is not authorative though, but simply one of the five perspectives.
* A death narrative involving a climbers last few hours of life
* Human rights issues told from different perspectives (the apology, issue in tibet)
* celebrating the banal (rather than dramatic) eg. Gail Priest's orpheus project
* Setting ourselves parameters with which to work within. eg. "not using the letter e"
* A provocation of Dan and Rhi's vegetarianism: a song cycle devoted to "meat"
* Exploring issues of food (eg. the cook, the theif, the lover, chocolat, delicatessen, the last supper) It's a banal topic, and a focus here at bundanon
*Food topic has potential to explore different perspectives: food ethics, wastage, recipes, health, enjoyment, restaurants...
* A narrative about the last meal of the prisoner
* Explore different writing styles: shopping lists, recipes, restaurant reviews, eating list
* Structure of working as a group: strict time limit; five sections - five characters; follows set logic, rotate each aspect
* Each section within a set could follow the ABCDE structure of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. Activating event, Belief about that event; Consquences of that belief; Disputing the belief; evaluating the disputing...
* everyone does an element of visual; text; music. This might flatten our expectation. Perhaps we could just do one section each. But this seems like an easy, safer, less interesting option?
*Regarding narratives: interested in twists
* Regarding narratives: interested in perspectives
* Also interested in gender issues. ie. set the music for any type of singer. Keep text androgynous. (eg. 'written on the body' by jeanette winterson; the film 'orlando')
* using one of R. Dahl's short stories for adults (eg. murders husband and eats the evidence...
* using fake cows as a chorus (OK so we were starting to get a little sleepy by this stage)
* a comedy about Arthur Boyd's "illegitiamate son starring Jim Carrey (yep, real sleepy)
* a comdey entitled 'All creatures great and boyd' (barely able to keep one eye open...)
* a drama based on the plot of the Da vinci code – boyd reveals a secret just before his death… the religious imagery in his paintings actually reveals the path to hidden treasure (half an eye...)
* a drama about Bundanon's living arts centre actually being a secret cult rather than a home and work space for artists (I can just see the others...)
* a drama about the living arts centre and Boyd's legacy actually being a secret research laborartory where artists are subjected to invasive experiments... (oh dear, it's 3 am...zzzzzzzzzzz)
Part of our conversation evolved quite organically into ideas for the group song cycle. Here is the freely flowing random list:
* Five sections which revolve around 5 different characters. One of these is the narrator who speaks from a very objective perspective. Eventually the viewer would realise this is not authorative though, but simply one of the five perspectives.
* A death narrative involving a climbers last few hours of life
* Human rights issues told from different perspectives (the apology, issue in tibet)
* celebrating the banal (rather than dramatic) eg. Gail Priest's orpheus project
* Setting ourselves parameters with which to work within. eg. "not using the letter e"
* A provocation of Dan and Rhi's vegetarianism: a song cycle devoted to "meat"
* Exploring issues of food (eg. the cook, the theif, the lover, chocolat, delicatessen, the last supper) It's a banal topic, and a focus here at bundanon
*Food topic has potential to explore different perspectives: food ethics, wastage, recipes, health, enjoyment, restaurants...
* A narrative about the last meal of the prisoner
* Explore different writing styles: shopping lists, recipes, restaurant reviews, eating list
* Structure of working as a group: strict time limit; five sections - five characters; follows set logic, rotate each aspect
* Each section within a set could follow the ABCDE structure of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. Activating event, Belief about that event; Consquences of that belief; Disputing the belief; evaluating the disputing...
* everyone does an element of visual; text; music. This might flatten our expectation. Perhaps we could just do one section each. But this seems like an easy, safer, less interesting option?
*Regarding narratives: interested in twists
* Regarding narratives: interested in perspectives
* Also interested in gender issues. ie. set the music for any type of singer. Keep text androgynous. (eg. 'written on the body' by jeanette winterson; the film 'orlando')
* using one of R. Dahl's short stories for adults (eg. murders husband and eats the evidence...
* using fake cows as a chorus (OK so we were starting to get a little sleepy by this stage)
* a comedy about Arthur Boyd's "illegitiamate son starring Jim Carrey (yep, real sleepy)
* a comdey entitled 'All creatures great and boyd' (barely able to keep one eye open...)
* a drama based on the plot of the Da vinci code – boyd reveals a secret just before his death… the religious imagery in his paintings actually reveals the path to hidden treasure (half an eye...)
* a drama about Bundanon's living arts centre actually being a secret cult rather than a home and work space for artists (I can just see the others...)
* a drama about the living arts centre and Boyd's legacy actually being a secret research laborartory where artists are subjected to invasive experiments... (oh dear, it's 3 am...zzzzzzzzzzz)
Friday, May 2
Bundanon - Day Four
Putting on our rainbow thinking caps…
Conversation at the 'muso's cottage' is rarely trivial. And I don't think we'd have it any other way. From politics, critical theory, and ethical values, to the current romantic pursuits of certain group members, our daily creative activities are constantly interjected with stimulating, vibrant, humorous and challenging topics of discussion. Take this morning for instance. I step out of my bedroom. Stretch. Yawn. Rub eyes. Search for a clean teacup. Instead of being passed the pot of tea, I’m thrown a handful of questions. Full pelt. Did I think it important to really know someone for an artistic collaboration to be successful? And what models of collaboration are most meaningful to me? The questioner was thrown back a definite NO from me. I think fruitful collaboration – regardless of the model – is possible with anyone. She caught it gracefully, and immediately threw back some further questions. This time I caught them in my cereal bowl and let them soak up some tasty breakfast goodness before responding… For me, good communication is key…
Speaking of which…
When it comes to working on our creative project, I’m feeling we – as a group –struggle with effective communication. We are finding it difficult to reach consensus on a variety of decisions. And this prevents us from moving forward with confidence. Mind you, I don’t think it is just about communication: we have quite a spectrum of life perspectives – a wide range of political and social viewpoints, music tastes, ethical values etc… and very different approaches to the creative process. This makes decisions that respect each individual viewpoint (a vital thing) difficult and time consuming.
But I think if we ensure that strong communication strategies are in place then surely working together will gradually become smoother and more efficient? While I do feel my ideas and opinions are heard, I feel they are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. And I think I'm doing my fair share of misunderstanding as well... I think we all need to listen more carefully and clarify each other’s viewpoints more frequently. For example, I tend to show my emotions immediately; I’m quite a passionate person. I’m generally quite open with how I feel about an issue, but I think I can work more on demonstrating that my feelings about an issue are more fluid than they might seem. I tend to react from an intuitive viewpoint and then analyse and evolve my viewpoint as the conversation flows. Because I’m feeling misunderstood at times, I’m beginning to react by closing off emotionally. I’m then getting frustrated. I think I need to work on being clearer about my personal needs within the group… being more assertive…
Possible solutions? I’ve suggested reading a document I have on consensus decision-making, while Julian has suggested Edward de Bono’s six-hat approach. I like the sound of this. Basically, issues are considered from six different points of view each represented by a different coloured hat: white hat – attention to pure neutral data; red hat – intuition and feeling; gut feeling without justification being necessary; black hat – the logical negative, caution; yellow hat – logical positive; green hat – new ideas and furthering ideas; blue hat – process control, the metacognition…
Anyway, lots of food for our respective thoughts…
Chewing it over…
We’ve discovered the bitter taste of church hymnbooks. Literally. Over the last few days Ben has been incorporating book pages into the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre for an installation and a photo series so we all spent some time helping him. A good technique required us to chew the pages in our mouths first and then paste the soggy pages between layers of bark. As we helped him, ideas for incorporating this into a bigger installation began to emerge…
While trying to hold back the occasional gagging reflex, we also spent this time chewing over ideas for a larger group project. As Rhi mentioned yesterday, I’m ready to sink my teeth into something more solid. Having had a few days to relax, and explore the property and a few emerging ideas, I was ready to come together as a group and start honing in on a project(s). We didn’t have de Bono’s hat strategy at this point so it took a while for the conversation to move forward. From my perspective, I felt a strong need to explore more group work opportunities; the beauty of this residency for me, at least, is the opportunity to actually collaborate with other artists. I’m not really interested in working solo: I can do this at home in my own studio.
Julian and I shared with the group our emerging ideas for a song cycle we’ve working on. The interest in working on a group Song Cycle began exciting us. So by the end of the day (and well into the night for the night owls amongst us), we were pleased that today a pivotal point was reached! Hoorah! A commitment to collaboratively write a song cycle… It will be really interesting to see how the next few days pan out. I’m really excited about the project. And I like the ideas that have emerged so far. I’ve never written text for music (except for a few songs my brother and I have written for family functions…) so it will be a very new challenge for me personally. Bring it on!!
Emerging Projects
As I begin summarising the emerging ideas of the group, I’m excited to see how far we’ve actually come in only four days…
Song Cycle | Music – Julian, Rhi, and Serena; Text – Ben, Dan, Serena; Visual – Ben, Dan, and Julian
Tomorrow we plan to start working on this project, generating ideas and gathering material. We’ll probably work in smaller groups and alone for the most part…We’ve decided to initially explore the theme of ‘Last moments of life’ and see where it takes us. We also decided to work as collaboratively as is possible. ie. We’ll all have input in each other’s work…
Song Cycle | Julian (music) and Dan (text)
Jules and I are still exploring themes and ideas. We’re interested in working in a way where the text and music feeds off each other, rather than a situation such as me writing a text for which Julian might then set to music. So far ideas have centred on notions of authority: the questioning of power structures and systems; different political structures; authorities in music and writing etc… and then ways we might be able to play with that in the work. Some examples include democratising the creative process: sharing this with the performer and audience; experimenting with non-linear structures and narratives: eg. Performing different songs simultaneously in different rooms so the audience could choose which order they view the songs… hmmm many more ideas to explore…
The Red Installation/Photo Series | Ben + others
Ben is still wrapping things in bright red wool – tractor parts, wood, burrawang leaves, and trees. He’s also got Serena and I knitting red scarves (eek!). Aside from serving as a series of installations around the property – intrusions and interventions on the landscape – the wrapping is in preparation for a photo series. As far as I understand, the red theme is quite symbolic. Rarely seen in the Australian bush, usually serves as a warning sign: poisonous mushrooms, red back spiders etc… or perhaps it’s simply a reflection of Ben’s connection with his root chakra… (cheeky grin!)
The Book Tree Installation/Photo Series
When Ben isn’t wrapping things, he’s sneaking pages of books amongst the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre. Again this project is emerging as both installation and a photo series… Exploring themes of decay and intrusion, the project is starting to extend beyond Ben’s original vision. We all spent a few hours today helping him to insert pages of the books onto the tree (I discovered chewing them first helped the process!) and as we did this other ideas began to emerge… Perhaps I could explore painting on the tree with natural ochres? How could my bark paintings relate to this installation? It was fun working collectively and we were intrigued at the different methods that emerged… oh and we’re using recycled materials, which will literally decay over time…
Photo Series | Rhi + others
This project focuses on looking at the beauty of detail…
Rhi is currently indulging and delighting in her obsessive-compulsive streak by collecting hundreds of close up images from the bush and sorting them by colour (Ben, Dan and Julian are also taking images to contribute to this project). She plans to build some larger images by using these as ‘mosaic tiles’. One idea she wants to experiment with is the image of a naked woman… She might also look at working with Dan to write some text/music to incorporate into the artwork… Tomorrow Ben, Rhi and I are going to work together to take some shots for Rhi’s naked woman, which she will then pixilate and use to then build up her mosaic image (no guesses as to who get to take all their clothes off!!)
Bundanon Community of Artists | Rhi + Dan (and others?)
This project is still in the ideas stage. We haven’t yet talked too much about directions in which we can head. But we’re keen to look at interviewing some of the artists who’ve worked/lived here with the intention of creating a radiophonic work (with Serena’s and Julian’s help?). Our motivation is a desire to explore the importance of community… (the Bundanon community and the larger surrounding community)
Solo Flute Work | Serena
Serena has been working on a solo flute piece. We spent the other night listening to some solo works by Matthew Bienek and talking about what we thought constituted a quality flute work. She is open to the idea of incorporating this into a bigger group project if appropriate.
Bark Painting | Dan
I’ve finished priming some of the bark with white paint and in the next few days will start painting. I’m thinking about using some of the other bark for sculptures. I’m also keen to explore incorporate some of my ideas with Ben’s installation…
Art and Sustainability | Dan (+ others)
I’m really interested in researching ideas about sustainability in art with the idea of developing some projects over the next few months. Being web-addicts, Julian, Rhi and I have decided to initiate this research by holding an online debate between the three of us over the next few days. I think this will be a really interesting and fun way to explore different ideas and concepts.
Time lapse Photography | Julian
Julian’s current idea is to recreate or model some of Arthur Boyd’s images using time-lapse photography, particularly the sceneries that Boyd obsessively created (eg. Pulpit Rock). There is the potential for sound/music as well…
The Cow project
We’re all still quite traumatised by the baby cows (who are still crying and moaning for their parents). Serena has made some sound recording of the cows, while Dan and Jules – who spent the afternoon with them – have taken some images. Whether we do anything with this footage remains to be seen… but the separation of mother and child has certainly made a huge impact on many of us!
Cloud Animation | Jules
Jules has been working on an animation of cloud pictures using time lapse techniques...
hhmmmm... perhaps there are things I've missed??
PS.
Jules has finally found phone reception! Down on the sandbank of the river. Mind you in the time it took to make three long phone calls, the tide began creeping in significantly. And so when Jules turned to head back home he discovered he was standing on a small sand island...
Conversation at the 'muso's cottage' is rarely trivial. And I don't think we'd have it any other way. From politics, critical theory, and ethical values, to the current romantic pursuits of certain group members, our daily creative activities are constantly interjected with stimulating, vibrant, humorous and challenging topics of discussion. Take this morning for instance. I step out of my bedroom. Stretch. Yawn. Rub eyes. Search for a clean teacup. Instead of being passed the pot of tea, I’m thrown a handful of questions. Full pelt. Did I think it important to really know someone for an artistic collaboration to be successful? And what models of collaboration are most meaningful to me? The questioner was thrown back a definite NO from me. I think fruitful collaboration – regardless of the model – is possible with anyone. She caught it gracefully, and immediately threw back some further questions. This time I caught them in my cereal bowl and let them soak up some tasty breakfast goodness before responding… For me, good communication is key…
Speaking of which…
When it comes to working on our creative project, I’m feeling we – as a group –struggle with effective communication. We are finding it difficult to reach consensus on a variety of decisions. And this prevents us from moving forward with confidence. Mind you, I don’t think it is just about communication: we have quite a spectrum of life perspectives – a wide range of political and social viewpoints, music tastes, ethical values etc… and very different approaches to the creative process. This makes decisions that respect each individual viewpoint (a vital thing) difficult and time consuming.
But I think if we ensure that strong communication strategies are in place then surely working together will gradually become smoother and more efficient? While I do feel my ideas and opinions are heard, I feel they are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. And I think I'm doing my fair share of misunderstanding as well... I think we all need to listen more carefully and clarify each other’s viewpoints more frequently. For example, I tend to show my emotions immediately; I’m quite a passionate person. I’m generally quite open with how I feel about an issue, but I think I can work more on demonstrating that my feelings about an issue are more fluid than they might seem. I tend to react from an intuitive viewpoint and then analyse and evolve my viewpoint as the conversation flows. Because I’m feeling misunderstood at times, I’m beginning to react by closing off emotionally. I’m then getting frustrated. I think I need to work on being clearer about my personal needs within the group… being more assertive…
Possible solutions? I’ve suggested reading a document I have on consensus decision-making, while Julian has suggested Edward de Bono’s six-hat approach. I like the sound of this. Basically, issues are considered from six different points of view each represented by a different coloured hat: white hat – attention to pure neutral data; red hat – intuition and feeling; gut feeling without justification being necessary; black hat – the logical negative, caution; yellow hat – logical positive; green hat – new ideas and furthering ideas; blue hat – process control, the metacognition…
Anyway, lots of food for our respective thoughts…
Chewing it over…
We’ve discovered the bitter taste of church hymnbooks. Literally. Over the last few days Ben has been incorporating book pages into the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre for an installation and a photo series so we all spent some time helping him. A good technique required us to chew the pages in our mouths first and then paste the soggy pages between layers of bark. As we helped him, ideas for incorporating this into a bigger installation began to emerge…
While trying to hold back the occasional gagging reflex, we also spent this time chewing over ideas for a larger group project. As Rhi mentioned yesterday, I’m ready to sink my teeth into something more solid. Having had a few days to relax, and explore the property and a few emerging ideas, I was ready to come together as a group and start honing in on a project(s). We didn’t have de Bono’s hat strategy at this point so it took a while for the conversation to move forward. From my perspective, I felt a strong need to explore more group work opportunities; the beauty of this residency for me, at least, is the opportunity to actually collaborate with other artists. I’m not really interested in working solo: I can do this at home in my own studio.
Julian and I shared with the group our emerging ideas for a song cycle we’ve working on. The interest in working on a group Song Cycle began exciting us. So by the end of the day (and well into the night for the night owls amongst us), we were pleased that today a pivotal point was reached! Hoorah! A commitment to collaboratively write a song cycle… It will be really interesting to see how the next few days pan out. I’m really excited about the project. And I like the ideas that have emerged so far. I’ve never written text for music (except for a few songs my brother and I have written for family functions…) so it will be a very new challenge for me personally. Bring it on!!
Emerging Projects
As I begin summarising the emerging ideas of the group, I’m excited to see how far we’ve actually come in only four days…
Song Cycle | Music – Julian, Rhi, and Serena; Text – Ben, Dan, Serena; Visual – Ben, Dan, and Julian
Tomorrow we plan to start working on this project, generating ideas and gathering material. We’ll probably work in smaller groups and alone for the most part…We’ve decided to initially explore the theme of ‘Last moments of life’ and see where it takes us. We also decided to work as collaboratively as is possible. ie. We’ll all have input in each other’s work…
Song Cycle | Julian (music) and Dan (text)
Jules and I are still exploring themes and ideas. We’re interested in working in a way where the text and music feeds off each other, rather than a situation such as me writing a text for which Julian might then set to music. So far ideas have centred on notions of authority: the questioning of power structures and systems; different political structures; authorities in music and writing etc… and then ways we might be able to play with that in the work. Some examples include democratising the creative process: sharing this with the performer and audience; experimenting with non-linear structures and narratives: eg. Performing different songs simultaneously in different rooms so the audience could choose which order they view the songs… hmmm many more ideas to explore…
The Red Installation/Photo Series | Ben + others
Ben is still wrapping things in bright red wool – tractor parts, wood, burrawang leaves, and trees. He’s also got Serena and I knitting red scarves (eek!). Aside from serving as a series of installations around the property – intrusions and interventions on the landscape – the wrapping is in preparation for a photo series. As far as I understand, the red theme is quite symbolic. Rarely seen in the Australian bush, usually serves as a warning sign: poisonous mushrooms, red back spiders etc… or perhaps it’s simply a reflection of Ben’s connection with his root chakra… (cheeky grin!)
The Book Tree Installation/Photo Series
When Ben isn’t wrapping things, he’s sneaking pages of books amongst the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre. Again this project is emerging as both installation and a photo series… Exploring themes of decay and intrusion, the project is starting to extend beyond Ben’s original vision. We all spent a few hours today helping him to insert pages of the books onto the tree (I discovered chewing them first helped the process!) and as we did this other ideas began to emerge… Perhaps I could explore painting on the tree with natural ochres? How could my bark paintings relate to this installation? It was fun working collectively and we were intrigued at the different methods that emerged… oh and we’re using recycled materials, which will literally decay over time…
Photo Series | Rhi + others
This project focuses on looking at the beauty of detail…
Rhi is currently indulging and delighting in her obsessive-compulsive streak by collecting hundreds of close up images from the bush and sorting them by colour (Ben, Dan and Julian are also taking images to contribute to this project). She plans to build some larger images by using these as ‘mosaic tiles’. One idea she wants to experiment with is the image of a naked woman… She might also look at working with Dan to write some text/music to incorporate into the artwork… Tomorrow Ben, Rhi and I are going to work together to take some shots for Rhi’s naked woman, which she will then pixilate and use to then build up her mosaic image (no guesses as to who get to take all their clothes off!!)
Bundanon Community of Artists | Rhi + Dan (and others?)
This project is still in the ideas stage. We haven’t yet talked too much about directions in which we can head. But we’re keen to look at interviewing some of the artists who’ve worked/lived here with the intention of creating a radiophonic work (with Serena’s and Julian’s help?). Our motivation is a desire to explore the importance of community… (the Bundanon community and the larger surrounding community)
Solo Flute Work | Serena
Serena has been working on a solo flute piece. We spent the other night listening to some solo works by Matthew Bienek and talking about what we thought constituted a quality flute work. She is open to the idea of incorporating this into a bigger group project if appropriate.
Bark Painting | Dan
I’ve finished priming some of the bark with white paint and in the next few days will start painting. I’m thinking about using some of the other bark for sculptures. I’m also keen to explore incorporate some of my ideas with Ben’s installation…
Art and Sustainability | Dan (+ others)
I’m really interested in researching ideas about sustainability in art with the idea of developing some projects over the next few months. Being web-addicts, Julian, Rhi and I have decided to initiate this research by holding an online debate between the three of us over the next few days. I think this will be a really interesting and fun way to explore different ideas and concepts.
Time lapse Photography | Julian
Julian’s current idea is to recreate or model some of Arthur Boyd’s images using time-lapse photography, particularly the sceneries that Boyd obsessively created (eg. Pulpit Rock). There is the potential for sound/music as well…
The Cow project
We’re all still quite traumatised by the baby cows (who are still crying and moaning for their parents). Serena has made some sound recording of the cows, while Dan and Jules – who spent the afternoon with them – have taken some images. Whether we do anything with this footage remains to be seen… but the separation of mother and child has certainly made a huge impact on many of us!
Cloud Animation | Jules
Jules has been working on an animation of cloud pictures using time lapse techniques...
hhmmmm... perhaps there are things I've missed??
PS.
Jules has finally found phone reception! Down on the sandbank of the river. Mind you in the time it took to make three long phone calls, the tide began creeping in significantly. And so when Jules turned to head back home he discovered he was standing on a small sand island...
Bundanon - Day Three
I usually look at the bigger picture. I take in the gist of a story, but never remember names or dates. I’ve been challenging myself at Bundanon though, and forcing myself to look at the intricate details and textures in our surroundings – and using these as ‘palettes’ of colour and texture to build a bigger picture.
Yesterday though, I was so focused on the minute detail that I forgot about the bigger picture and got lost in the bush. It took a very long bush bash through tall, thick lantana, and several hours trying to climb my way around the rocks in the river bend before it got dark and I was finally rescued in a tinny by two lovely people, Keith and Yvonne Hazlewood, who unfortunately lived on the other side of the river. Not exactly how I planned to spend my day.
But while I was walking I came up with two potential ideas to explore – one that would involve Ben and one Julian. I wasn’t sure whether they’d like the ideas though. (Ben would politely nod either way, Julian would be more blunt) But would they make a spark? Would it matter? Or would my vision create enough momentum?
This got me started thinking about the process of collaboration, and how difficult it is to develop, and then work towards, a shared artistic vision.
I’ve been talking to Ben the most about my visual ideas and the kinds of things I want to achieve – and have been stealing his photos as source material (planning to also scavenge from Dan’s and Julian’s pics). I guess to some extent this is collaboration: Ben’s technical skills are much better than mine, and I need his talent to achieve my vision. But at the moment it is still my vision: though as it's not fully formed there is potential for this to shift over time.
These thought processes have fed into discussions with various people. We always planned to stop and take stock part way into our stay, and I feel as though we are reaching a pivotal moment.
There are lots of smaller projects that have been sprouting during our time here: For me, I can see how my work ties in with Ben’s photo narratives and potentially Dan’s interest in bark painting; I am interested in exploring further with Dan and possibly Serena the idea of the community of Bundanon and using this as the basis for a radiophonic work – maybe drawing on Julian’s expertise? And now I’ve had time to clear my head I’m keen to get started on writing some music.
There are a few musical ideas I could get started on, but first I want to know if it might tie into something bigger. My main question is: are all (or some) of us going to start focusing on working towards a shared artistic vision? Or are we going to pursue our own individual and small group projects with the possibility these might slowly merge into a Life Between Buildings group outcome?
There are mixed feelings about this in the group. Dan is really keen to sink her teeth into a group project: to explore an anarchical collaborative model. Julian is more focused on a number of individual projects and doesn’t want to force the process of collaboration. Ben and Serena are both quite happily engaged in a number of individual projects but would be happy to look at how these might become part of a whole group outcome…
Yesterday though, I was so focused on the minute detail that I forgot about the bigger picture and got lost in the bush. It took a very long bush bash through tall, thick lantana, and several hours trying to climb my way around the rocks in the river bend before it got dark and I was finally rescued in a tinny by two lovely people, Keith and Yvonne Hazlewood, who unfortunately lived on the other side of the river. Not exactly how I planned to spend my day.
But while I was walking I came up with two potential ideas to explore – one that would involve Ben and one Julian. I wasn’t sure whether they’d like the ideas though. (Ben would politely nod either way, Julian would be more blunt) But would they make a spark? Would it matter? Or would my vision create enough momentum?
This got me started thinking about the process of collaboration, and how difficult it is to develop, and then work towards, a shared artistic vision.
I’ve been talking to Ben the most about my visual ideas and the kinds of things I want to achieve – and have been stealing his photos as source material (planning to also scavenge from Dan’s and Julian’s pics). I guess to some extent this is collaboration: Ben’s technical skills are much better than mine, and I need his talent to achieve my vision. But at the moment it is still my vision: though as it's not fully formed there is potential for this to shift over time.
These thought processes have fed into discussions with various people. We always planned to stop and take stock part way into our stay, and I feel as though we are reaching a pivotal moment.
There are lots of smaller projects that have been sprouting during our time here: For me, I can see how my work ties in with Ben’s photo narratives and potentially Dan’s interest in bark painting; I am interested in exploring further with Dan and possibly Serena the idea of the community of Bundanon and using this as the basis for a radiophonic work – maybe drawing on Julian’s expertise? And now I’ve had time to clear my head I’m keen to get started on writing some music.
There are a few musical ideas I could get started on, but first I want to know if it might tie into something bigger. My main question is: are all (or some) of us going to start focusing on working towards a shared artistic vision? Or are we going to pursue our own individual and small group projects with the possibility these might slowly merge into a Life Between Buildings group outcome?
There are mixed feelings about this in the group. Dan is really keen to sink her teeth into a group project: to explore an anarchical collaborative model. Julian is more focused on a number of individual projects and doesn’t want to force the process of collaboration. Ben and Serena are both quite happily engaged in a number of individual projects but would be happy to look at how these might become part of a whole group outcome…
Thursday, May 1
Bundanon - Day Two
It’s hard to believe but we’re finally here. On the land, living the life, away from it all. It’s very beautiful – very green, very open, very rich. A good spot to do some good thinking.
It is, however, nowhere near as quiet here as I imagined. For a start, some bright spark decided to place the two water tanks right outside the bedroom windows rather than against the unoccupied side of the house – I keep awakening to what sounds like earthmovers every morning. Also, being a ‘working farm’ there’s a steady stream of 4-wheel drives, tractors and lawn mowers, not to mention the odd busload of Catholic school kids. I think it’s quieter in Glebe.
Interestingly, though, it’s nature itself that makes the most racket; besides the constant birdsong it’s the cows that you notice the most. For some reason they scream and groan for hours each afternoon, which is not in itself an unpleasant sound. In fact I spent a good half hour yesterday standing among them, fascinated by this primal and chilling call. I think the mum cows were distressed because their babies were trapped within a pen. It seems pretty cruel; I don’t know why they have to be separated.
I’ve found it a little challenging being away from my usual comforts – the local cafes, a supermarket, the harbour, texting, TV, my studio - although I must say that I tried bringing as many of those things with me; the carload was ridiculous. Strangely, though, I’m not bored. The potential of the fortnight is grabbing me. I feel very at home here. In fact, two weeks now seems nowhere near long enough. And it’s a bit of a relief not being in contact with my normal world. I was really craving it early on but our lightning trip last night to Nowra Woolworths very quickly cured that. I’m even thinking of cancelling my planned trip back to Sydney on Monday and simply staying on.
I’m feeling very creative and motivated but there are a few blocks. Firstly, I’m not used to spending so much time on stuff. It’s difficult to organize my day. It’s also difficult suddenly dealing with having to ‘fill time’ creatively – to actually find sounds, find ideas, find material to work with. I have all these abstract projects and concepts in mind – death, sleep, the hidden, night, intimacy, emptiness - but very few tools with which to realize them. All my piano ideas sound wonky and stupid, and my head isn’t clear enough yet to really absorb this site in a deep way. I’m flitting between things, which is not bad (in fact I like to work this way) but nothing is grabbing me much yet.
I’m also finding it difficult to reconcile what I want to do creatively with what the purpose of this trip is. In a way I just want to go off on my own tangent and spend this time working solely on my own existing and future projects, perhaps with one or two members of the group but not necessarily. Yet we’re meant to be generating new material based on collaboration and so forth. Fundamentally I believe in collaboration but my motivation towards it right now is pretty low – probably because I find it difficult to focus on my own projects during my day to day life (this is my first proper time away from the office for ages). I guess the first few days are going to be like this regardless.
Proper collaboration, for me, is much more than simply squashing together a few scantily-related disciplines (writing, music, photography – none of which have much connection really). It’s about foregoing and maybe forgetting one’s skills in order to focus on a greater outcome – privileging a concept or idea and embracing that without individual glory. Very socialist. It’s a very difficult way to work, though, because it requires a lot of mental commitment, trust, humility and vision. I’m not sure I know how to work that way with this group because I just don’t know everyone very well, although the themes that we’ve discussed so far – intervention, memory, reclaiming history - are broad and fertile enough to excite me.
Anyway, so far everyone has been working on individual ideas and exploring the site (Rhiannon more than others). To quickly summarize:
Ben has been wrapping things and taking photos. It’s nice work – he’ll find a simple object like a branch, a leaf, a bit of old farm machinery and bind it in red string. It reminds me of Andy Goldsworthy’s work, tiny interventions in nature like a yellow leaf on the ground or red stones in a creek.
Serena, from what I can tell, has like me been thinking more about her projects from the ‘real world’ – a piano concerto (?), a Kyrie for choir, a flute piece, some plays.
Dan has been reading up on artists, collecting natural materials like bark, mixing up berries into pigment, playing some piano and discussing some thoughts for a song cycle between us.
Rhiannon – well, Rhiannon has been doing her best to escape. She went on a giant walk which ended up a long way away from here requiring a dramatic rescue last night. I’ll let her explain the details in her own time. :-) She has been taking photos of unusual abstract formations in the bush and developing ideas from there.
Me, I’ve set out in a few directions – I worked up a sketch for a short film based on clouds; I’ve written a few pages of ideas for my Lullabies, Nocturnes and Death series’; I’ve ordered a whole bunch of photos; I’ve been collecting quotes from various writers; I’ve read up on Structuralism, Post-Modernism and Shelley; I’ve been listening to Low, David Lang and Bjork.
In the initial absence of strong collaboration I’m looking forward to more sharing of influences, some evening group activities. I’m dying to play some tracks and DVD stuff to everyone, perhaps read some books out loud, have more discussion about art and ideas. That may make me feel stronger about working together. God knows I brought enough support material.
That’s it from me. Over to blogger # 3.
It is, however, nowhere near as quiet here as I imagined. For a start, some bright spark decided to place the two water tanks right outside the bedroom windows rather than against the unoccupied side of the house – I keep awakening to what sounds like earthmovers every morning. Also, being a ‘working farm’ there’s a steady stream of 4-wheel drives, tractors and lawn mowers, not to mention the odd busload of Catholic school kids. I think it’s quieter in Glebe.
Interestingly, though, it’s nature itself that makes the most racket; besides the constant birdsong it’s the cows that you notice the most. For some reason they scream and groan for hours each afternoon, which is not in itself an unpleasant sound. In fact I spent a good half hour yesterday standing among them, fascinated by this primal and chilling call. I think the mum cows were distressed because their babies were trapped within a pen. It seems pretty cruel; I don’t know why they have to be separated.
I’ve found it a little challenging being away from my usual comforts – the local cafes, a supermarket, the harbour, texting, TV, my studio - although I must say that I tried bringing as many of those things with me; the carload was ridiculous. Strangely, though, I’m not bored. The potential of the fortnight is grabbing me. I feel very at home here. In fact, two weeks now seems nowhere near long enough. And it’s a bit of a relief not being in contact with my normal world. I was really craving it early on but our lightning trip last night to Nowra Woolworths very quickly cured that. I’m even thinking of cancelling my planned trip back to Sydney on Monday and simply staying on.
I’m feeling very creative and motivated but there are a few blocks. Firstly, I’m not used to spending so much time on stuff. It’s difficult to organize my day. It’s also difficult suddenly dealing with having to ‘fill time’ creatively – to actually find sounds, find ideas, find material to work with. I have all these abstract projects and concepts in mind – death, sleep, the hidden, night, intimacy, emptiness - but very few tools with which to realize them. All my piano ideas sound wonky and stupid, and my head isn’t clear enough yet to really absorb this site in a deep way. I’m flitting between things, which is not bad (in fact I like to work this way) but nothing is grabbing me much yet.
I’m also finding it difficult to reconcile what I want to do creatively with what the purpose of this trip is. In a way I just want to go off on my own tangent and spend this time working solely on my own existing and future projects, perhaps with one or two members of the group but not necessarily. Yet we’re meant to be generating new material based on collaboration and so forth. Fundamentally I believe in collaboration but my motivation towards it right now is pretty low – probably because I find it difficult to focus on my own projects during my day to day life (this is my first proper time away from the office for ages). I guess the first few days are going to be like this regardless.
Proper collaboration, for me, is much more than simply squashing together a few scantily-related disciplines (writing, music, photography – none of which have much connection really). It’s about foregoing and maybe forgetting one’s skills in order to focus on a greater outcome – privileging a concept or idea and embracing that without individual glory. Very socialist. It’s a very difficult way to work, though, because it requires a lot of mental commitment, trust, humility and vision. I’m not sure I know how to work that way with this group because I just don’t know everyone very well, although the themes that we’ve discussed so far – intervention, memory, reclaiming history - are broad and fertile enough to excite me.
Anyway, so far everyone has been working on individual ideas and exploring the site (Rhiannon more than others). To quickly summarize:
Ben has been wrapping things and taking photos. It’s nice work – he’ll find a simple object like a branch, a leaf, a bit of old farm machinery and bind it in red string. It reminds me of Andy Goldsworthy’s work, tiny interventions in nature like a yellow leaf on the ground or red stones in a creek.
Serena, from what I can tell, has like me been thinking more about her projects from the ‘real world’ – a piano concerto (?), a Kyrie for choir, a flute piece, some plays.
Dan has been reading up on artists, collecting natural materials like bark, mixing up berries into pigment, playing some piano and discussing some thoughts for a song cycle between us.
Rhiannon – well, Rhiannon has been doing her best to escape. She went on a giant walk which ended up a long way away from here requiring a dramatic rescue last night. I’ll let her explain the details in her own time. :-) She has been taking photos of unusual abstract formations in the bush and developing ideas from there.
Me, I’ve set out in a few directions – I worked up a sketch for a short film based on clouds; I’ve written a few pages of ideas for my Lullabies, Nocturnes and Death series’; I’ve ordered a whole bunch of photos; I’ve been collecting quotes from various writers; I’ve read up on Structuralism, Post-Modernism and Shelley; I’ve been listening to Low, David Lang and Bjork.
In the initial absence of strong collaboration I’m looking forward to more sharing of influences, some evening group activities. I’m dying to play some tracks and DVD stuff to everyone, perhaps read some books out loud, have more discussion about art and ideas. That may make me feel stronger about working together. God knows I brought enough support material.
That’s it from me. Over to blogger # 3.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)