For the love of dogs

You may have heard the news reports this week. In separate incidents, two women died trying to save dogs. One woman ran back into her burning home to rescue her pet, and perished. Another tried to rescue a dog stranded on a busy highway, and was hit by a vehicle.

Loyalty goes both ways, it seems.

They’re sad stories, about unfulfilled potential. The women, both fairly young, were under forty. Were their actions stupid? Reckless? Probably. But I completely understand why they did it.

As far as companions go, dogs are top-notch. They’re always delighted to see you when you arrive home at the end of the day, they want to be in your company without demanding much more than your presence, and they will defend and protect you regardless of their stature, age or mobility. They are faithful.

Single occupant dwellings are the new black. Although we’re more connected than ever thanks to the internet and social networking, more of us live alone nowadays.

When my circumstances changed five years ago, and my full house became an empty nest every second week, I thought I might die from loneliness. We are social creatures, and while I craved some alone time, the reality of a half-full life was hard to take at first. Despite the efforts of beautiful friends to help me fill the time, too many hours were spent on the couch with just a wine bottle and a teddy bear for company.

A sad-arsed existence was not sustainable for me, so I got myself a furry little companion named Rosie. And committed myself to another long-term relationship. Dogs can live for up to twenty years, and I was in for the long haul.

From my perspective, our relationship was great, and my health improved as couch-bound wine-guzzling time was replaced or reduced by long walks with Rosie. About a year into our relationship though, I realised poor Rosie was suffering as I had been before her arrival. She was lonely during the days when I was working. She was demented with joy when I arrived home, and more and more demanding of attention. For her sake, and mine, I had to bring a second dog into our home.

Ethan joined our family about two and half years ago. He’d been dumped in Mildura, and brought to Melbourne by a dog rescue organisation, hoping to place him in a new home. He was a little skittish when he first arrived, and still has an aversion to some things, but overall he’s a jolly little fellow and he and Rosie are utterly devoted to one another.

They’ve seen me through so many challenges and successes over the last few years, and have kept me company in lonely times. They’ve scared me, when they’ve gone missing or been injured, and they’ve made me laugh with their crazy antics. I owe them.

Would I run into a burning building to save them, if they were in peril? It’s difficult to know exactly what you would do until you’re in a particular situation, but I think I would. The thought of losing them distresses me, that’s for sure. It’s tragic that lives have been lost trying to save a couple of dogs. But I totally get it. RIP ladies.

Seven Days of Awesomeness - The Album

No, not an album as in a record or a cd. A photo album on Flickr of things I noticed around me over seven days in March. Check it out here.

Things to do in Sydney 1: Take an art class

Every Saturday morning in a quiet Surry Hills lane, a bunch of folks gather to have their noggins engaged and their fingers stretched by brisk, no-nonense art instructor Jenny Hall.

The Brett Whiteley Studio hosts 2 hour sessions, open to all regardless of previous experience or ability, in the former home, studio and gallery of the popular Australian artist.

Jenny is a friendly and welcoming teacher, who knows you're there to draw and learn in a time period that evaporates all too quickly. Taking up to 10 students each Saturday, the pace is comfortable enough for everyone to keep up, yet still covers a lot of ground. The time flew by, but I managed to learn a fair bit.

Costs for all materials and the model's fee are covered by the $40 charge, so all you have to do is turn up. But be prepared to be a little wrong footed in the name of learning. There are quick poses to begin with, to warm up our fingers and to warm up our brains we did a series of 60 second sketches, drawn without looking at the paper. Like this one, which I think looks like an alien:



Then we did more 60 second poses, looking at the paper this time, trying to get down as much of the lines and shapes of the body as we could in the short time frame.

To disabuse us of the idea that our work was in any way precious, or that we should be precious about it, we did a series of sketches where the model slightly changed position every few minutes and we had to adjust the drawing to the new pose, drawing over and over our work.



Classes are in the gallery space, so members of the public are wandering about while the workshop is in session. Being around people reacting to your work as you are creating it is both scary and powerful. Staying focused on the model's latest pose is one of way of not being over-awed by the public viewing and commentary.

The two hours flies by, and afterwards if you wander up to the main drag you may be lucky enough to find the Surry Hills Saturday market in Crown Street. Nice people, good quality stuff, not too over-priced and good food. There are worse ways to spend a Saturday.



Info on art workshops at Brett Whiteley Studio
Info on Surry Hills Markets

Show me your Kunst, Melbourne.

Attention Melbourne. You people only have until this Saturday night to experience the latest offering from indie rock outfit Die Roten Punkte. Just a few more days to show us your Kunst.

Super musicians and siblings Otto and Astrid Rot are in hot demand in Canada, Scotland and Adelaide where they've picked up a swag of festival awards, and Melbourne International Comedy Festival audiences are lapping up the duo's new show Kunst Rock.

Hailing from Berlin, Otto and Astrid are the yin and yang of rock. Party girl Astrid is hot on the skins and very popular on the festival circuit with the gentlemen, while straight-laced vegan and abstinence advocate Otto directs his energies to mastering his collection of mini guitars, and the crowd-pleasing keytar.

Together, Die Roten Punkte (German for The Red Dots) deliver an evening of great music punctuated by hilarious dialogue and antics. It's a bit like Jerry Springer with likeable people. Desire, fear, jealousy, addiction are all on display as Otto and Astrid yank us closer to their murky relationship.

These performers seem to totally inhabit their over-the-top characters, and they're so authentic it's easy to forget Otto and Astrid aren't the performers' true identities. Go hang out with them at the merchandise table after the show and witness their immersion first-hand.

I can't get enough of these artists, and I declare my hand as a rabid fan.

Their opening night show was packed, with plenty of new audience members alongside the slavish devotees. The new songs were winners, and there were plenty of fresh gags to keep us giggling.

If absurdity is your thing, and you're a music lover, get along to Kunst Rock before it closes on Saturday.

Sydneysiders aren't missing out. Die Roten Punkte are reprising their Robot/Lion tour for Sydney audiences, taking the show the harbour city for a short Sydney Comedy Festival run commencing in late April. Get in quick.

Book tix for Die Roten Punkte: Kunst Rock at the Arts Centre in Melbourne.

Book tix for Die Roten Punkte: Robot Lion tour at the Metro in Sydney.

What is missing?

I've borrowed the title of today's blog from a great exhibition at Sydney's Museum of Contemporary Art.

French multimedia artist Sylvie Blocher asked residents of Penrith New South Wales to talk on camera about what is missing, from their lives, their community and their country.

This video portrait of a microcosm of Australian contemporary society is funny, shocking and at times uncomfortable to watch. Along with this film, MCA exhibited other Blocher video projects. As a whole, Blocher's work was a fascinating examination of human emotions and desires, and I was so immersed in it that despite spending two and half hours there, I wasn't able to see all of the video packages on show.

I was particularly struck by the videos I and Us from the Living Pictures projects and Nanling from the Urban Stories projects.

In I and Us, the fringe dwellers of France were given a voice, their simple messages printed onto t-shirts while they stared silently down the barrel of the camera. It was incredibly powerful, and I felt compelled to stand and watch the whole 55 minute screening. With their words and their faces, 100 people of the Beaudottes area of Sevran, France made me smile, laugh, gasp, and cry.

An excerpt from Blocher's film Nanling screened as a diptych, was particularly moving. On one wall endless footage of high rise housing in South China screened, panning slowly up buildings housing identical, tiny, living quarters. On another screen was a 9 minute silent film of Blocher's encounter with a Nanling woman. The woman had not met a white European before, and was keen to have physical contact with her. Sylvie allowed the woman to do whatever she wished to her body, as long as she could capture the encounter on film. What followed was an extraordinarily beautiful, candid and uncomfortable meeting. The woman touched Sylvie boldly, and lovingly, the bliss of her unfettered access to another human being shone from her face. When Blocher could take no more she gently removed the woman's hands and hugged her and we could see that the Nanling woman's face was serene and peaceful.

As a person who doesn't experience the touch of another human being very often, I had enormous sympathy for the Nanling woman. And I envied her opportunity to gently explore the body of another with her hands and fingertips, without any expectation or giving of herself in return.

When the MCA closed for the day, and I stepped back out into the throng of people at Circular Quay I felt lighter, and inspired by all I had seen.

In the days following my return to Melbourne, creative ideas flooded me and I speedily documented potential art projects. It was exciting and satisfying to think about the ways I could express and present these ideas in an appealing and meaningful way.

Exactly one week after visiting MCA, I feel creatively bereft. There are commissions and projects sitting patiently on my to-do list, and I can't drum up any enthusiasm for them whatsoever. In the same week, Autumn has settled into Melbourne's bones, and the cool wind is whisking away our long summer days much the same way it will blow the leaves from the trees. It's time for retreating into the bunker and surviving on stodge. It's time for blankets and slippers and tea and toast. Everything is slowing down, even it seems, me.

What is missing? I'm not lacking inspiration, ideas, or materials. So what is holding me back? What is missing? Could it be warmth? Touch? Love? Rest? Space? Time?

Check out the work of Sylvie Blocher.

What is Missing? is on at the Museum of Contemporary Art until April 26th.

Homecoming music

After an exhiliarating, confronting, reinforcing, emotionally charged, busy couple of days away, my weary, foot-sore body has been cosseted by sweet, sweet sounds as it wended it's way home, and settled back in. More about my Sydney sojourn soon. Today, I'm giving a shout out to the soundtrack to my day.

The Wailin' Jennys track, The Parting Glass
The Swell Season album, Strict Joy
The Polyphonic Spree track, Suitcase Calling
Tim Buckley album, Tim Buckley
Belle and Sebastian album, Dear Catastrophe Waitress
Colin Hay album, Going Somewhere
Carole King album, Tapestry
Marianne Faithfull album, A Collection Of Her Best Recordings

Check out the ones you haven't heard before. Pull out your old copies of the ones you have heard of, and give them another listen. You won't regret it.