Let me just show you this...

I've been meaning to post for some time now but life keeps getting in the way! I'm happy to say that work has been plentiful and has been keeping me very busy lately. So a new post soon - before I move back to the antipodes - with some news and some pictures.

I've been so inspired to paint again lately and I've found some gob-smackingly gorgeous art that I want to share some of here. When I have some more time.  I'd also like to share some of my own.... For now though, look at the work of Melbourne artist Paul W Ruiz. I think he's incredible. 

 

http://blog.paulwruiz.com/

http://www.paulwruiz.com/

I'd love to have tea with Mirka...

Sex is like a beautiful wine, a beautiful drug, but love is something else. Love is men and women thinking.

A 2007 Interview with Mirka from ABC's Enough Rope

where she talks about Paris, Melbourne, war, love, sex, art , children - life. 

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Disposable love

 These were taken the night we drove back from Ottawa, with a disposable camera Jérémie gave me (thanks J! I have four that you took to give you). The first picture was taken from the backseat of the car and I had no time to frame it or check where I was pointing the camera (not that I really bothered to do so with any of these!). All the little 'white lights' are migrating birds reflecting sunlight...

 

Birthday flowers and other loveliness..

Soft woollen comforts and other pleasant surprises..

Fred came with me to Nathalie's today; he played piano while I played with the puppies. I came home to find a package for me in the mailbox. Inside the package was a beautiful new hat, hand-knitted for me by a girl I've not yet met, but who has inspired me for a long time. It's enough to make a lass happy to be going from winter into another......

A Love Letter From A Stray Moon

I am Frida, and I am not Frida. I am the moon, hollowed out by remorse. I am many women, I answer to many names. My prayer is from the forests of Mexico, from the molten heart of the earth. Fly closer, fly nearer to me.

I glimpsed Diego first when I was just a kid, long before the accident. He was painting The Creation, and I saw him as a man unbowed by any god for he knew he was man the creator. I saw coasts in him, volcanoes and forests, a geography of mind painted in all time, from the long pre-Columbian verde of forest-mind in its thousands of generations before the peculiar regency of history. And that is the time in which I write now, to plead in those longest cycles of time, for now as I write this, my love letter from the moon to man, I am using my heart as a palette and painting in my own blood.

The text above is from A Love Letter From A Stray Moon by Jay Griffiths. It's an intriguing autobiography - in that it's not an autobiography - but written as one. A fictionalised portrait, written as though Frida herself wrote it. I just listened to an interview with the author on Late Night Live: mp3 is here if you want to listen too.

I can't wait to get my hands on this book....

Coming home

Last Wednesday we drove to Ottawa. On the way home I looked up and saw that the migratory birds were also returning home. Hundreds of them in the sky above us...