On the Rocks

Still pondering on the beauty of that week at the beach, I found some more photos that might bear doing a bit of work with. 

Our lot favours the coast north of Brisbane for many reasons, some sentimental and some aesthetic. 

One of the characteristics of the beaches there is the large expanses of coffee rock deposited by volcanic activity some gazillion years ago. It is marvelous stuff, providing rock pools, bridges, caves and waterfalls to intrigue and occupy children (and adults) for hours. That has probably gone on for a million years or so too.

One of the interesting properties of coffee rock is that, being quite porous, it breaks down easily and can be carved and eroded into myriad different forms.

It seems to have deposited a fine black sand that emerged as the top layers of white sand were washed away in the storms. I remember being on a Greek Island with sand like this. I don't remember which one but it was near a volcano. Anybody?

We discovered that by drawing in the top layers of white sand, the lower layers of black sand showed through like some kind of lovely, natural etching.

While the girls were drawing in the sand, it occurred to me that the sands and tide had produced some rather exquisite drawings without any human assistance whatsoever.

   

Some of these lines would make for delicious drawings on heavily textured paper

and would translate beautifully into black and white ink or charcoal drawings.

They had such a strength and fluidity from the rock and sand.

Only nature could dream up such inspired composition.

I think this is my favourite. It would make a rather striking large canvas.

Just saying.

Council Pick me Up

On the way to yet another breast related appointment last Saturday, I was feeling cynical, fed up and mourning the big bucks I had just forked out for some lymphatic massage. (Don't ask.) The lights changed and I crossed the road to meet this 'sign' plonked at the end of the crossing. 

Non- Brisbanians note there has been a delightful project underway for years for artists to decorate the electrical boxes near traffic lights.

It was time for a photo and a deep breath. What's not to love? It's how you look, not what you see. This very ordinary intersection has some great lines in it. If I can find a fine line ink pen somewhere, I will follow the urge to draw this. It's been a while but a red light got me to STOP and think about it.

The week end was full of life loving me. The sight of sleeping chillun always gives me pause to be thankful.

 Even the primary school party circuit was fun this week end. One was a dress up party. Lala opted to go as a rugby player. For once I appreciated her tom boy tendencies a it was the easiest costume ever and she won best dressed. LIke Nicole Kidamn in that movie where she wore a big rubber nose and got an Oscar, they'll give you a prize for anything if they think you've sacrificed your pretties for your art.

 So I was blithely skipping through the week end loving life and, would  you believe, it started loving me back via the local council collection.

Remember the Icky-yaya (Ikea) chair? I found it a companion a few doors up in perfect condition!

This one ended up back by the bin after the Big Fella saw it until I explained that it was me that had found it not the chillun and that I would perform magical feats to restore it to funky loveliness. He rolled his eyes. Ye of little faith! Suggestions re colour and shades are welcome?

We have been looking for a wicker bedhead for Lala for a long time. This one was being carried out by a woman who said she was finally dismantling her grown up daughter's room.

Here it is in situ. Lala wants to paint it yellow or turquoise. The latter matches her room better. Thoughts???

 'Tis a bit shabby chic with the lime wash. Not that there's anything wrong with that!!!

 Throw in a little West German Tiger, Tiger burning bright.....

 a  summer hat from a friend and a new crochet project and I was feeling well loved by life. 

Just as well as I have the first radiotherapy session today and then every day for the next six weeks. BUT it doesn't make you sick and it's quick. You've got to love that.

It's a sign...

A quiet week-end

Sometimes a quiet week-end at home is like a spiritual 'alka seltzer'- to find your happy place,
read a new book with a cup of tea, (loving my table)
have hordes of merry children over with their lovely Mums for more tea,
explore new hobbies and try new foods,
be best friends (for a while) and do cheesy Saturday night stuff,
build and tinker,
participate in a spectator sport,
get mad and crazy eyed (an hour before your first gig as an altar server.....puh-lease!!),

and find old friends (not always under the laundry sink). She is back from sewing machine hospital (a very happy place for me) and it cost the princely sum of $32 to fix her!!!
Somebody reminded me to find this pincushion I made last year which reminded me to look in these old drawing books again to see when it was.
Then I found this one which reminded me she was not yet one year old at the beginning of last year
and this one which reminded me how hairless she was- like a little budgie!
That reminded me how she has grown and that this was sanded, painted and sent to its new family for their first baby's arrival on Friday. Passing things on to a new happy place always makes it easier to let it go.
I loved these little shoes. They were just oppy ones but we both thought they were pretty. Buying boy gear at Kmart on Friday, I noticed a woman with a younger toddler looking at almost identical shoes for sale. On an impulse I asked if she would like ours. I had just noticed they were too tight for Shorty's feet. Her child was pleased and smiling, the mum seemed happy enough with a big grin and even Shorty seemed pleased about the giving the 'present'.
It felt good to pass them on to somebody randomly like that. Really good. Would you have minded? Was it presumptuous of me? It made K-Mart a happier place for me anyway- a good start to the week-end.
In case that sounded too nice, Lairy Godmother and I checked out a hugely expensive mansione yesterday with SEVEN bedrooms. Oh the joy of all that sterile resort style space. Then I went out with some girlfriends to a tame local family tavern and witnessed a bar brawl with a couple of rowdy pool playing mobs. Seriously, it's been years! I felt like patting them all on the backs afterwards and saying something demeaning like, "Thank you, boys, for giving all the mummies on our table a most exciting highlight to our evening."

(I think one was called Grub, Julie! x)

Back to the drawing board

Last night as I kicked through the debris of Boysworld to unearth the beds, I found a couple of last year's sketchbooks deposited down there by one of the cousins. She liked leafing through so I had another look with her and realised that not all the recorded events were as special as I had remembered. Some are quite whimsical like this Henry Moore-ish portrait of a mum and baby shadow at the beach. However...most record a very mundane lifestyle indeed. It seems there was still raking and baking and collecting eggs.
Struggling with technology and losing photos and equipment seems par for my course.
Oh this was fun- rearranging the pantry. That was over a year ago. Is there a rule about the frequency of these chores?

The festive season was clearly upon me when all I could come up with on Christmas Day was crumpled wapping paper. So much paper, so little time.
Stacking rocks was one of the pursuits I encouraged my children to pursue at the beach. "It's wonderful, keep going, build it higher. Wake me when it's done." They spent quite a few days on that activity ending up with stupendous fortresses and dugouts.

Peeling veges and making soup- Groundhog Day- this could be 2011's drawing journal.
What was going on here!? It's okay. Fishy got a rope tying manual so he could do useful things on the boat- like tie knots in rope.

Ah, yes. Here is a Deb Tribute if ever I saw one. In fact, we will call this 'doing a Deb'! They did this with a football between me unlocking the front door and following them to the kitchen. I never did find out which boy it was. They copped the blame equally in the Brotherhood of Breakage. It was a spectacular break as they go and is now recorded for posterity in the little black book of Wonders and Blunders.

Primitive blogging

It feels a little odd sharing these but I have run out of drafts so this is it.

Recording snippets of this family life is second nature. Usually it involves photos and drawing. At the beginning of 2010 I decided to set myself a personal goal, a small project that could span 365 consecutive days. I wanted to start drawing a little. It was an exercise in self discipline as much as anything. So every day for a year I made a small drawing in a sketchbook. There ended up being six books and they hold a year of memories and images and brief notes. I like how they sit in a pile and how the offspring leafs through them from time to time. It's nothing very clever but was just a fun thing to do.

Some are simply narrative and were drawn from photos we had taken that day. This pouch was the best baby blessing that I got for number 5 and this beach, at Coolum, is a favourite. She has never had a lot of hair.

Here is my preferred bit of a doll I made for Lala. I loved that fat button and felt pocket. (Button apologies to Anna).

We acquired a marvelous piano from a friend's 100 year old aunt. It was made in New York in the 1920's. I felt very privileged and relieved to get it as Fish was in love with his piano playing but had been learning on a dodgy keyboard. The others quite liked it too.

I visited my beautiful sister in Sydney and she took me on long awaited pilgrimages to Julie Patterson's 'Cloth' shop....

...and to the Dinosaur Designs seconds sale about this time last year. Her kids were learning Italian words for colours at the time.

In the same year that the tiny one snuggled in the pouch she was suddenly taking her first walk up the road to visit the lairy godmother. The handbag habit still remains.

Of course there were op shop bits and bobs, this one bought for me by my lovely brother on the Sunshine Coast.

This is a cryptic diagram that had something to do with a tree being cut down out the front.

This one looks cryptic too but is simply a drawing of the dentist's x-ray that showed Fishy's tooth was pushing out another one.

Sometimes I was so tired I would just draw what I saw from the slumped position on the couch. Those scribbly lines below are where I kept falling asleep and letting the pencil wander away on the page.

Often it was as mundane as what we had to eat that day. Similar stuff to blogging really though a bit less public.

One day I might show you some more. It was a good year.