On the eve of a new year

“Thank goodness it's nearly over,” say some, “Bring on 2011,” say others. What makes us so hopeful that there's something better on the horizon simply because the calendar clicks over another day? I love the optimism though. Go nuts guys. Be as hopeful as you can. It probably won't change anything, but it can't hurt right?

I'm not going in with anything as strong as optimism this time. Nor hope. More a wariness matched with quiet good humour, and allowances for brief periods of despair, anguish and joy.

It's not 2010 or any other year in particular that makes me take this view and seek an emotional balance. It's just that a lot can happen in a year, and it defies logic to suppose that all of the things that happen in a person's life over the course of a year are going to all be good.. People of my age and older seem to be always exclaiming how fast the years seem to be passing, but the perceived speed of the passage of time doesn't mean we're not packing a lot in to those 365 days.

Last week I made a list of personal highlights and lowlights of the year. Thankfully, there were many more of the former, but with the lowlights being dominated by loved ones dying or becoming ill, I really wish that list was much shorter than it is. The last few weeks in particular have felt like a festival of bad news, with each piece of additional news threatening to bury me in the heavy silt of intense grief.

One highlight I didn't list was the amazing privilege of observing and guiding the growth of the two human beings in my care. They seem to stretch their body frames a little longer as they sleep, waking taller, louder and hungrier each morning, and they make me laugh hard with their wry observations of life. KUTGW Lachie and Darcy.

Our home has swelled slightly with the addition of our housemate Amanda, and we are sometimes visited by Amanda's pug Hugo who snorts like a piglet and can cuddle on a lap for hours. Rosie and Ethan took to Hugo quite well, and people walking, running or cycling on the track at the rear of the house were treated to a trio of loud yappy dogs barking madly, instead of the usual duo. Good times.

The big ticket items this year were special – a trip to Europe, making new friends, reconnecting with old friends - but even the smaller ticket items (is that even a thing?) like seeing shows and dinners with friends were pretty special too.

I think 2010 for me was the year of the Little Girl with a Little Curl. When it was good it was very, very good, and when it was bad it was horrid. A little less intensity next year might be good.

To all my friends, family, colleagues, readers (all 12 of you), frenemies, nemeses, and the dogs, thank you for being part of the rich tapestry of my life in 2010 (and prior). My wishes for you for 2011 are simple: Go well. Be safe. Strive to be happy.
Happy new year.

L


Highlights & Lowlights of 2010
(in almost chronological order)

Highlights

EMC Summer School in Sydney
The go-go challenge
Slow Fashion Show in Melbourne (performing Shake Your Tail Feather)
Seven Days of Awesomeness (related blog)
Easter in Sydney (related blog)
The Swell Season (Melb & Syd)
Trip to Europe (UNI Conference and making new friends, as well as you know, Europe)(related blog)
Weekend in Canberra
Darebin Art Show
Kunst Rock (related blog)
Mrs Bang
Show Don't Tell
Thrill The World (related blog)
Half-Arsed Thursdays
Dinners at Vere & Roseneath Streets
BBQs at Arcadia Avenue

Lowlights

Deaths of Barry Beech, Eric Hopper, Jan Cleeland and Lulu Marilyn Smellybumholehead
Deaths of Rubie Hunter, and James Freud.
Sandy's diagnosis and imminent death. Li's diagnosis.

Favourite TV in 2010

Misfits, Sherlock, Mad Men, Chuck, Modern Family.

Favourite movie of 2010

Animal Kingdom (related blog)

Favourite album of 2010

Belle & Sebastian, Write About Love

Favourite books of 2010
(read in 2010 not necessarily written in 2010)

American Gods, Neil Gaiman
A Fraction of the Whole, Steve Toltz (related blog)
Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen
The Old Kingdom Trilogy (Sabriel, Lirael, Abhorsen), Garth Nix
Keys to the Kingdom series, Garth Nix
The Tomorrow Series and Ellie Chronicles, John Marsden
Committed, Elizabeth Gilbert

Say Goodbye

Not long after I started to explore my artistic tendencies I came across a movie on television called Me and You and Everyone We Know. Shockingly beautiful is the way I like to describe it.

It's a movie about connections. The main characters, described on IMDB as “A lonely shoe salesman and an eccentric performance artist” who “struggle to connect in this unique take on contemporary life”, actually have depth and are well portrayed by Miranda July and John Hawkes.

But this film isn't solely about these two characters; the supporting stories are just as fascinating.

Beware though, we travel through some uncomfortable territory here. Parallel tales include a small child engaging in an adult world, and the sexual awareness of teens. When IMDB says “contemporary life” they mean the gritty, technologically shiny and often emotionally bereft 21st century, where rules and social norms are challenged constantly.

Every uncomfortable situation is tempered by the tender treatment of director and lead actor, Miranda July. It's controversial and confronting, but hugely enjoyable, and poignant.

I immediately ordered a copy of the DVD from Amazon, and wanted to know what else the fabulous Ms July had produced. That's how I discovered Learning to Love You More.

I spotted the book on Amazon and the description talked about a website that acted as collective arts hub. Upon find the website I discovered that assignments were set by a group of artists, Miranda July and Harrell Fletcher among them, and anyone was free to complete the assignments and submit the results on the website. In fact, everyone was free to submit an assignment if they wished to.

Since it's inception, many of the submissions have been exhibited in the UK, Europe and the US, and a good number appear in the book. Submissions have poured in from all over the world. Some are beautiful, some are naïve, some are puzzling. All of them are interesting.

In the years since I found the website I have submitted a couple of reports, and kept some of my favourites in mind when helping my children with their homework assignments, or being creative myself.

I did have one submission rejected on the grounds that it did not meet the rules of the assignment. The tension between being free to create something, and being constrained by very specific perimeters puts you in a forced creative space where you produce something that, perhaps is not be exactly how it would be if you had full creative control, but is actually the best you could do under the circumstances and the exercise has forced you to come up with contingencies.

It's quite liberating to accept that you can create within confines. In fact we do it all the time.

Learning to Love You More stopped taking assignment submissions on 1 May 2009. Submissions can still be seen on the website, & the assignments are still posted for anyone to complete.

The 70th and final assignment posted was Say Goodbye. Here it is:

“Sometimes it's hard to say goodbye. It just feels easier to keep holding on. But in the long run it's usually a good idea to let go, it's the daring thing to do. It allows room for new things, for transformation. And maybe the goodbye isn't even forever, but you can't know until you really say goodbye and mean it. In some cases, goodbye is really the end, and good riddance! For this assignment, say goodbye to all the things you need to let go of: bad habits, dead people, alive people, ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, self-destructive feelings and behaviors, jobs, projects, re-occuring thoughts, etc.
  
Write it as a simple list:
  
Goodbye Bill.
  
Goodbye wetting the bed.
  
Good bye interrupting people when they are talking.
  
etc.
  
It can be as long or as short as you like. And, most importantly, take a moment with each one to really say goodbye. This isn't a catalogue of your fears and faults, this is a ceremony to bid them farewell. Please don't send us HELLOS, only goodbyes.”

The assignment was posted in early 2009 along with a notice that Learning to Love You More would no longer be taking submissions. Since then I've been thinking about the assignment. Not obsessively and not all the time, but it has been hovering in my mind for more than two years, just quietly musing in the background. Whenever something changed in my life or someone left I'd wonder “Is this it? Is this what I'm saying goodbye to?”

On my continuing journey of self-exploration I have often wondered about the choices I have made and want to make, whether my opinions still fit or need revising. I think about and my attitude, activities and relationships. “Would it be best to say goodbye to any of these,” I often wonder.

Since 2009 I have said goodbye, many times to lots of things. But none of them felt right for this project.

But tonight, Friday 12th November at around 8.30pm, I had a breakthrough.

I know how to Say Goodbye.

Thrill the World

Tonight along with 80 other people in Melbourne, I'll be dressing up as a zombie and dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller. We are participating in Thrill the World; a global event that has set a couple of world records. Tonight we're hoping to break one of them (Largest performance of Thriller in multiple locations), and raise some money for 24 hour telephone counselling and crisis support service, Lifeline Australia.

Thrill the World has been happening annually since 2006, and has grown each year. Over 22,000 dancers participated last year, in 32 countries.

In Australia, Thrill the World events are occurring in Melbourne, Sydney, Perth, Devonport, Brisbane and Rockhampton.

In Melbourne, dancers from Anna's Go-Go Academy have been preparing for months. We learned the dance in class in stages, spread out over a few weeks. That was months ago. Since then we've been practising most weeks so the steps sink in, and many of us have been practising outside of class aided by Thrill the World instructional videos on the web.

For the last two weeks we've practised several times during class, and have been scouring op shops and rooting through cupboards to find our perfect costumes. Our generous sponsors Costume Factory, Kensington have given us a discount on zombie make up, and guidance on how best to apply it. Our other major sponsor Bella Union, home of Anna's Go-Go Academy Wednesday night classes, are allowing us to use the venue as our pre-show HQ, and are hosting the after-party.

Fundraising efforts are going well, and I have been genuinely touched by the support my friends and colleagues have been willing to provide.

In about four and half hours the months of practise will be put to the test as we get our zombie on and whip out our very best MJ action. Photographers and video camera operators will capture the performance, and then it will be all over. More than one of our number has mused aloud about whether we'll have Thriller withdrawal after tonight.

Already there is a sense of accomplishment. Most of us aren't professional dancers. We work in offices, shops and salons, and spend some of our spare time dancing for fun. But together, we've mastered a fairly complicated routine, we're raising money for a good cause, and the best part about it is the sense of working as a collective. Getting ready to Thrill the World has been so much fun; months of planning to put on a 6 minute show!



Our event manager Anna has put together a great production crew, drawing on the skills and experience within the Go-Go classes, and it's sure to be a fun evening for those who are participating, and those who are coming along to watch.

Zombie dancers all over the world will dance Thriller simultaneously. The dance time for Melbourne is 10pm; perfect for spooky dancing!

I think I speak on behalf of all over the 80+ zombie dancers participating when I say we're thrilled to be part of Thrill the World 2010.

Shamon!

Review: A Fraction Of The Whole by Steve Toltz

This book was recommended to me by dear friends Mistress Anna and Lady Bec, who have not steered me wrong when it comes to literary choices. They've come up trumps again; this is an amazing book.

The audacity of the plot turns made me gasp, and there were more than a few “Oh My God” moments that left me muttering aloud and shaking my head at the surprising twists.

It's almost hard to believe that Toltz's saga, which is in equal parts engaging and disturbing, is his first novel. It is no surprise however that the book was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2008.

A Fraction Of The Whole chronicles the lives of three generations of the Dean family. Set in rural New South Wales, Sydney, Paris, Bangkok and a Thai jungle, through Toltz's tale we bear witness to the loneliness, isolation, depression, humour, ambition, intellect and insanity of the family members and their cohorts.

The characters we nestle closest to in the telling of this tale are father and son, Martin and Jasper. Martin's story, and those of his parents and brother Terry, are told to Jasper after he is teased about his notorious uncle by schoolmates. A philosopher, Martin is forever burdened by his aloneness, and by the devastation of his family as the bizarre consequences of his seemingly innocuous ideas reach their tragic conclusions.

It seems impossible that something as mundane as a suggestion box could be the cause of dire outcomes for the Deans and their community, just as it seems unlikely that a devoted mother would deliberately harm her beloved son. There are shocks a plenty here; many more than those I have mentioned.

It was refreshing to have no idea where the plot was heading, and unsettling to not stick with any one scenario long enough to sit comfortably in it's groove.

I found the contrasts exciting, and at times frustrating. For example, Martin's long-winded, often demented rants, frequently contained brilliant concepts and startling insights. Jasper's internal monologue was at times so completely at odds with his outward behaviour that it was sometimes difficult to reconcile the thoughts and the behaviour as belonging to the same character.

What made it easier to stick with the book despite the frustrations it sometimes caused, was the writing. Toltz's choice of words to convey the array of ideas contained in this story was quite often beautiful, and I particularly enjoyed his use of similes. The sinking sun as a dissolving lozenge, for example.

Setting the story in Australia also gave Toltz the opportunity to use our national obsession with sporting success as a plot device, and I think it's fair to say he parallels one character's tale with our country's bizarre reverence of colonial criminal Ned Kelly.

The other reason to stay the course with this book is the characters; they are definitely worth sticking around for. Despite their failings, and they all have them, I couldn't help liking most of them. They are so damn interesting. The way they rationalise their behaviour is amusing and authentic. Very few of their actions are thoughtless, and I felt privileged to be able to take a peek inside their minds as they thought through their deeds, or analysed them after the event. Through their internal musings I was introduced to interesting notions I hadn't given too much thought to previously, as well as being moved to dwell on some some aspects of my own life, and the direction I want my life to take.

There are some characters we don't get to know well, such as Jasper's mother Astrid, but we spend enough time with her to get more than a sense of her tormented mind.

This story is heavy going. There are moments of love and light and hope flashes in and out tantalisingly, but these are only rarely glimpsed in the mire of bullying, violence, crime, suicide, infidelity, mental illness, birth, death, and evil found on the pages of this book. Joy comes to the characters briefly in the form of sexual contact, and a feeling of connectedness to nature, but the overwhelming mood is of bleak struggle. A Fraction Of The Whole literally reeks with the stink of human existence. Breathe it in. Deeply.

We woke up in the shadow of a hung parliament

Australia has voted. The polls closed eighteen and half hours ago, and we don't know who won the election. We may not know for sure for a week or more, and a hung parliament is looking the most likely outcome at this stage.

I have been surprised this morning at the number of people who I respect and admire that are crying foul over Liberal preferences flowing to the Greens, and helping to secure them one (and possibly two) seats in the lower house, and the balance of power in the Senate.

As far as I know, the Liberals' preferences are a matter for the Liberals, and don't require agreement from the Greens. What are they supposed to do? Say no thank you? It only becomes a concern if there's evidence of dodgy deals to shore up that support.

The only reason the Liberals' preferences came into play is because the Greens primary vote was strong enough to push them into second spot in the count, and those primary votes have drifted, by and large, from Labor.

Labor supporters, and the party itself, would be better served by honestly assessing why that drift has occurred, rather than bleating about how the Libs directed their preferences.

I've also heard, and read, the view that the election result (or non-result) was somehow due to people not paying attention, being distracted, or being tricked. I disagree. I think the will of the electorate, and growing distaste for our two-party system, has been clearly demonstrated. This is no accident. Suck it up folks.

Even the number of informal votes could be seen as a statement, although I'd prefer people frustrated with politics or election campaigns to express it in a way that really counts. It shits me to tears that over half a million votes were wasted, especially following a successful high court case to enable 60,000 additional voters to cast a ballot. I think informal voters are gutless and lazy. It takes courage to make a decision, especially when they're made tougher by not particularly liking any of the choices available.

Decisions will be all the rage in the coming week or two, as final votes are counted, independents are wooed, and the Governor General consulted.

Goodness knows how it will all pan out in the end, but getting there could be one of the most interesting and inspiring journeys our country undertakes.

And as an aside, I couldn't be more pleased that Labor regained the seat of McEwen. It holds a special place in my heart, and it was great to be back there again yesterday. Well done Rob.

Zurich Part 2 - Kunsthaus - 26th June

I am in the cafe courtyard at Kunsthaus in Zurich, Switzerland. I have just visited the gallery and I am enjoying a glass of bitter lemon and listening to loud machinery operating in a nearby street. There are fig trees in the courtyard, a mural, and a sculpture. The ground is covered in loose gravel and the silver metal chairs have blue and white striped cushions on them.

I am not alone in the courtyard. An older man, with white hair and a bald spot, sits at the next table sipping coffee and reading a book. Two women have just entered the courtyard; mother and daughter possibly. One carries a tray with two cups. As they sit, both slip off their shoes and giggle with relief. One, the younger, is putting a fresh corn pad on her left foot.

I know how they feel. My feet and lower legs are also suffering from walking around this large gallery, and standing before it's many fine works.

Kunsthaus is an impressive gallery that strikes a nice balance between works of old masters, and a comprehensive collection of contemporary art.

The first exhibition I viewed featured works by German photographer Thomas Struth. I knew nothing about his work, and to be honest, I entered the exhibition on the basis that his surname is an Australian colloquial exclamation. I found massive prints, rich in colour and detail, on stark white walls in substantial exhibition spaces. His works were grouped by theme; architecture, machinery, landscape, street scenes, family portraits, and interestingly, photos of art gallery visitors reacting to art. I liked the fact that seemingly ordinary subjects became objects of interest and beauty once in the lens of Struth's camera.



From there I entered the wing housing the permanent collection, with something akin to dread. I have realised something about myself recently. The works of the old masters no longer interest me the way they once did. I was initially surprised by this discovery, but I understand it. These ancient works don't have any relevance to my contemporary life and views, and they provoke nothing more than boredom.

As I entered the first room, already mentally rolling my eyes, I heard a voice call out. I couldn't see anyone, although the voice sounded close. I then noticed a piece of carpet had been torn roughly away, to reveal a screen in the floor, smaller than the palm of my hand. A naked woman, being devoured by flames was beseeching, holding her arms up, begging to be rescued. "Get me out of here," I imagined her calling. (She spoke Swiss-German). I could relate. Get me out of here indeed. I scooted through the rooms filled with works by fusty old masters and found the contemporary collection.

Some of it I hated, and some of it I loved. At the very least it provoked a reaction other than boredom. And I broke a rule - despite possessing what I like to think of as a free and easy attitude, I am actually a stickler for rules. The rule I broke? I touched some of the scupltures. There's something about 3d works. They're so textural they're almost begging to be touched. And I really did need to satisfy my curiosity about the work titled "Silent Grey Horse" just to establish if it was made from genuine horse hide. It was.

I did spend some time with the Impressionists too. Monet, Chagall, Van Gogh, and admired the works of Picasso and Dali within the Kunsthaus collection.

The last exhibition I visited was by Albanian video artist Adrian Paci. After the exquisite intensity of discovering the work of French video artist Sylvie Blocher (refer earlier blog) I had high hopes for Paci's exhibition Motion Picture(s). Those hopes were quickly dashed though. Kunsthaus promoted the works as "addressing topics like migration, globalization and cultural identity and uses compelling images to demonstrate the effects of exile, war and social upheaval on the human subject."

Paci is apparently an internationally renowned artist. Maybe so. On the basis of what I saw at Kunsthaus, I'd have to say that I just don't get it. Stop motion scenes of a wedding? Yawn. A giant yarn reel on it's side in the middle of a room? WTF? Only the tawdry, amateurish portrayal of a porn peddler in an Albanian village raised any interest, and that was mild at best.

I guess that's the thing about art - one person's art is another person's great big waste of time. Love it or loathe it, I celebrate the fact that we're free to create it, and people are free (with the exception of admission fees) to see it.

First impressions of Zurich

It's a Friday night, the World Cup is in full swing with countries being eliminated to determine the make up of the finals, and I am in Zurich Switzerland wondering what the hell I'm doing here.

My impressions may be coloured by the fact that I've had very little sleep this week. Not more than 3 hours a night since Monday. Add to that about 30 hours of travelling on various aircraft and waiting in airport lounges around the world. First Melbourne, then Singapore, then London.

So, Zurich seems to be a mix of ancient buildings, shiny fashionable young people (where are all the old people?) and clocks; lots of clocks.

I'm staying at the Zic Zac Rock Hotel in Marktgasse. Each of the rooms is supposedly themed on a famous rock act. I am in the U2 room. The only attmept at a theme is the guitar patterned carpet (which is consistent throughout the building) and three prints of U2 album covers; Under A Blood Red Sky, Rattle and Hum, and Pop. The bed is comfortable (I took a 5 hour nap this evening), and the staff are friendly in a no-nonense kind of way.

I'm in a room overlooking a square, and a number of bars. In the square there is a gay bar, 3 nightclubs (2 catering to gay patrons), a wine bar, a take-away food place, a clothing shop, a retro clothing and accessories shop, and a fantastic place called the "Condomeria" which is actually a shop selling gloriously coloured sex aids, that seems to be run by a dowdy middle aged woman.

The street (or gasse) is cobble-stoned, and it was amusing to watch women in very high heels trying to walk along the street. That's one thing I have noticed - everyone here wears fantastic shoes. I saw a man in shiny silver loafers! And the women's shoes are evenly split between gorgeous decorative ballet flats and sky high stilettos and wedge heeled shoes.

The language is Swiss German (something I'm not familiar with) and not a lot of English. Communication has been fun since I arrived. I have managed to get my message across; albeit with a sleep deprived jetlagged brain.

Upon arrival at Zurich airport I caught an interairport train that appeared to go to "Heidi" and passed through passport control with a smile and a wink. My plan to take the train into the city was abandoned as I suddenly felt my aloneness and general unpreparedness acutely; I took a cab to Marktgasse.

I checked in to Zic Zac, plugged in an adaptor so I could charge my iPhone, and almost electrocuted myself. The plug box fell off the wall, a spark flew from the box, and the adaptor I'd been given was blackened. In the process, I blew all of the fuses in the room so none of the lights or plugs worked. Awesome.

I took a stroll around the place, without the aid of a map. The streets were filled with predominantly young folk, dressed in stylish casual clothing reflecting the warm summer climate.

I had trouble locating a supermarket at first, but found a small one below ground level (Migros) and then a bigger one near the main train station, called Coop.

I bought toothpaste called Candida (It's just wrong, isn't it?), a packet of chips, Evian water and a punnet of blackberries.

Back at the hotel I discovered they do not have Wifi, and was directed to go to either Starbucks for 15 mins internet access, or a bar called Wings that provides unlimited internet access. I chose Wings. An airline themed bar with a substantial cocktail list and retired airplane seats. They also had a big screen TV inside and out of the bar, which was screening World Cup matches. I sank a very strong gin and tonic, exchanged messages on Facebook, and sent long soppy emails home.

I headed back to Zic Zac and lay on the bed, sleeping for about 5 hours, despite the noise outside my open windows; occasionally waking to the sound of vuvazelas. I woke properly at about 11pm and wandered outside in search of sustenance. Food service seemed to be suspended due to the late hour, but I managed to consume enough wine to hopefully ensure a sound night's sleep.

I went to the Barrique Wine Bar, conveniently located underneath my room. I had trouble conveying my order to the staff, and had to stop them pouring red wine rather than white. Not rose, blanc! That piece of confusion appeared to cost me an extra franc when my change arrived, and the first drink was much smaller than the ones that followed. I quickly learned to say "Danke" rather than "Thank you" or "Merci" and was rewarded with ever-increasing amounts in the glass.

It's now just past midnight. I'm back in my room at Zic Zac, eating blackberries and waiting for the noise outside to die down so I can sleep again. The iPod is really coming in handy in that regard, as I can drown out some of the sound with my music - except the vuvazelas. Their sound penetrates everything.