A sense of community

One of the nicest things about blogging is that there appears to be a real sense of community. I have met the coolest people here (sorry for sounding dated) and have had supportive of communications from the most unexpected places when I have delved into the trials of life here. Thanks guys!!

It also makes me concerned when my favourites bloggers disappear (like Poneke did briefly earlier this year) and when you read things like this on Peter Peryer’s blog. I just hope they cruel grey of an Alexandra winter hasn’t got to him. And if you want to know about that - read this from Brian Turner(for a limited time) - a lovely piece of writing. And I was there living in Central in the winter of 1991!

“A spectacular frost occurred in Otago in early July 1991 when overnight air temperatures dropped below -15°C – for days in some places. The effect was chaos. Beer froze in pubs, water pipes burst, diesel turned to sludge, and rabbits with frostbitten ears were accused of cannibalism on national television. Exposed metal (such as gates) became so cold that skin froze to it on contact.” Personally we were able to ice skate down our gravel road.

Hoar frost on pruned fruit tree

But I digress (and am getting all nostalgic again).

One thing that I found today that made me feel not so old was this great interviewwith the photographer Martha Cooper (now in her 60s) about her work photographing graffiti and street art. The interview is 12 minutes long but worth the watch.

Poetry on the Street

An article in yesterday’s New York Times caught my eye and was illustrated with this stencil.

Fernando Pessoa on a wall of a building in the Bica neighborhood of Lisbon.

“Pessoa was raised in South Africa, trilingual, he wrote in English and French as well as in Portuguese, and in person (“pessoa” means simply person in Portuguese) affected the reserve of an English gentleman, inventing in his writing heteronyms, or imaginary characters, through which to make himself, as it were, disappear…Pessoa’s like a shadow, an invisible man…He wrote about being the center of a center where there was nothing.”

I think its fitting that “the invisible man” is depicted in such a impermanent medium. And this image brought to mind a line I read recently. “I see you before hieroglyphs of a strange land“ from ‘Streets of Music’ by Martin Edmond.

In other news, New Zealand graffiti crew TMD (The Most Dedicated), triumphed at the World’s Largest Graffiti competition at Splash Festival in Germany. From Streetarse “TMD placed first in the concept wall and well-respected Grey Lynn artist Deus is now officially the best tagger in the world – his family are very proud.” (which is pretty damn funny).

And it is official - there is no more room in hell

Lastly here’s a great idea when you’ve run out of material for your blog:

“Jake Bronstein recently bought a toy vending machine off the Internet. He filled the toy capsules with ideas of fun things to do and started placing the machine in various spots around New York. For 50 cents you get the original toy, an idea, and a map to guide you to the location for your idea. Each capsule also contains a quarter, refunding half of your purchase price (the machine wouldn’t let him charge less than 50 cents.)”

The Mirror Crack’d

Again I was briefly tempted to use this blog to get my own back but I remembered a quote that friend sent me recently “The Devil doesn’t make us do anything. The Devil, for example, doesn’t make us mean. Rather, when we’re mean, we make the Devil. Literally. Our actions create him. Conversely, when we behave with compassion, generosity, and grace, we create God in the world.” (Tom Robbins). While I can’t say I am much of a Devil/God believer, something rings true about generosity and grace today.

However it has been an awful day and at one point as my daughter and I sat shaking in what seemed like acres of shattered glass I somehow thought of the poem “The Lady of Shalott” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

‘Out flew the web and floated wide-
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott. ‘ 

And then the suggestion came that shattered glass could be a metaphor for my life (oh great). Well at least I am now looking happier than this lady

John William Waterhouse’s The Lady of Shalott, 1888

And no this hasn’t all got much to do with art but in a day of glass and poetry I found humour (and dare I say it - resonance) in the poem  “The Great Age of Turbines” by Darryl Short

“Jesus showed up
in the oddest of places -
like the supermarket:
tills rang”

Group hug anyone?

Choose Life

An odd Saturday, one played out to the theme of Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life“, (although I much prefer “Passenger“). Still it prompted me to think of the quote from Trainspotting, “Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career…” Click here for the rest of this excellent rant.

Oddly I don’t remember choosing or signing up for the suburbs, yet here I am with 3 kids in a street of beige 1970’s split levels. :-)

Choose Life by Marie Oudkerk

So to cheer myself up I splashed out and bought another older Landfall (207) from a great, yet somewhat expensive, second hand book store a few blocks away. I am behind the times as this copy is from 2004, but it contains some amazing items.

For example, James Brown writes “Communities are made up of stories and literary communities are no exception. In New Zealand everybody has a James K. Baxter story or a Denis Glover story or an Alan Brunton story, just as everybody in Montreal has a Leonard Cohen story. This then is my Allen Curnow story.”

Which is funny because recently I heard two more Allen Curnow stories and while I’ve been doing this blog I have had very generous correspondences with several artists and writers (correspondence being the subject of Brown’s piece).

Peter Wells also writes of when the Listener stood for something and the arts and books editor held reputations in his hands as “a power broker, a gatekeeper, and in a very important position in the New Zealand arts“. I do wonder that this magazine carries any such weight these days - actually I doubt it (but I am happy to be corrected).

In other news Dave Cauchi says the NZ art scene is too cosy - “a nice comfy chair and cup of milky milo.” which has got me thinking…

And Peter Peryer’s wonderful blog is just making me too homesick for Central Otago - even with the -10 C frosts.

Oh - and just as a random piece of information, I actually can hypnotise chickens you know.