Skip to main content

Posts

A Golden Thread

Recent posts

Rinse & Repeat

Festivals serve up more than bands, martinis in mugs and craft beers in custom-designed bottles, so in the spirit of risk-taking and surrender, I decided to submit myself to an ‘artistic experience’ in a silent hair salon at last year's Mona Foma festival. But to what was I surrendering? And why?
The Terhairium offered an indulgent immersion, leaving the customer at the hands of the silent hair stylist in a foliage-filled caravan. There would be no speaking and no mirrors. Limited stipulations could be given in writing before the appointment, the example given being: ‘no shorter than the jawline’. I wrote: ’no fringe please’, then, a bit more insistent: ‘no more than a trim, really’, and finished with a somewhat more desperate plea: ‘I don’t like hair around my face!’  But I began to wonder: what could happen to me, while I’m in there, voiceless, in the stylist’s hands? I liked my shaggy, sea-stained locks, the twisted blonde, brown and grey strands like seaweed around my sandy face…

Bright Beams of Birdsong

The magpies used to greet me as I arrived at the beach shack, and as we left, they’d re-assert their place once more, striding back into the front garden. But they seem to have moved on down the road these days. In their place, we have the bullet-proof bodies of the currawong, beady-eyed, tough-beaked, sleek-winged, with their flash of white at the tail. They clatter like earthmoving machines on the tin roof and watch fiercely from the gutters.

They might be black and white, but they’re not my magpies. It seems our magpie family has moved on down the hill, and closer to the ocean, scared away by the bigger birds.

I try not to take it personally, but I can’t help it. I want the magpies back, sharing some land, as part of my family. My love of magpies is not based on any ornithological knowledge or scientific curiosity. My attraction is relational: an interaction of beings and emotions; a sense of connection as to how to place myself in the world. They pick me up and sweep me away into fa…

Let it Out!

Around a campfire many years ago, our mates asked each other “what is something you’d really like to do in your life?” Some said making a film, others said climbing a mountain and one said they wanted to write a book. My partner delivered this clanger: “I’d like to come up with a fair tax system.” (In retrospect, good on him!) I was quiet, then confessed, “I’d like to sing on stage.”

A few months ago, the reality of our tenuous hold on life hit me and churned me back out into the world with a new sense of hunger for creativity and connection. It had been a routine test, leading to hospital time and treatment, and I emerged from the shock of it wanting to grasp life, claim my space and find my voice. 
When I was offered a place in Melbourne Indie Voices Choir for term 3, I waited all of three seconds before signing up. I had been on their waitlist for a while. Work, study and family had got in the way. Maybe other things had got in the way too; some things I hadn’t recognised. A sense of…