Beginnings: Preamble

This recap is more for me than for you; I may have written all this before, but I need to recall and clarify, so you must excuse me.

When I decided in March 2010 that I was going to have a solo exhibition, I had the working title of "WYSISYG: What You See is What You Get", and the "concept" behind it was, "cloths without concepts".

I had a mental picture of the exhibition: big tubes like Titanic's funnel/smoke stacks hanging from high above, and folks possibly walking into and/or standing inside them, looking up. I based the other contents of the exhibition on this one picture: lots of big, pretty but useless cloths doing what cloths do; wrapping, dividing, hiding, declaring. A little like an European castle's banquet hall with tapestries, flags and banners, but more contemporary and clean. I don't know if others do this, but I wanted to create an exhibition and fill it with cloths.

Mind Map or Solo Brainstorming on the Function of Cloth, Version XXX

And finally a legible version

The problem I had at the last meeting at my house was, this being a group exhibition, I wanted to brainstorm about the overall view/flow/philosophy/vision/picture of the exhibition so I can make things to fill it, but my insistence on the look of the exhibition was interpreted as my not trusting others to make nice work, and things heated up.

After going over the meeting with Pat the next day, she picked up that I have a totally different approach to my making, in this instance, and understood why I needed the group brainstorming in order to start working, instead of make things, and then consider how they can be displayed. She suggested I go all the way back to the first picture and work from there, and it's been smooth sailing since.

I still feel a little trepidation about Monday, but I think it'll go well.

I need to confirm with the group that ours is not a strictly conceptual textile work exhibition. I'm also going to suggest, though maybe at another time, some brainstorming about the difference between a joint exhibition and group members' work being hung together. 

Miscellaneous

A near-miracle is taking place in my house today; Ben is tidying the office/study, and even throwing things away! This has been a very contentious issue between us as the last time I remember cleaning that room, and in particular the bookshelf, was Jan/Feb of 2000, and I lost years of sleepless nights over it, caused mostly by my conspicuous book purchases.

I was so ready to start working on my October exhibition ideas in a more organized way, but I even offered to help him when he finished reconfiguring his workstations and moved on to the stationary cupboard. It isn't much of a stationary cupboard lately, and we've been discussing for several years how to make it more Ben's-photography-friendly; he's accumulated a bit of equipment, and we've accumulated a small variety of photo papers. And the whole argument has been about making it more his room than ours, since I've hogged two other rooms for several years.

I found some stuff I knew we had but couldn't find; two being plastic cover sheets, card baking, and the binding thingies. Though I never finished Carla Sonheim's Art of Silliness 1, in spite of psyching myself up a few times intending to, I decided I was going to let it go and not worry about finishing. But I so enjoyed the experience so I'm going to get the holes punched and the set bound on Monday. I'd like to do another of her course, but I can't decide between Silly 2 or Faces 101, (either way, on my own,) and I don't want to do it until I get my next six months sorted, as in rough plans and loose rules.

The sheet is the last one I worked in Brisbane inside the Matisse exhibition. I was besotted by a series of linocuts he did for this book and you can see a few more examples here. I was particularly enamored by a very simple portrait of a woman with her face resting on in her arms. Matisse's linocut came with the parts of the face, too, but I loved the woman's right arm in particular and the position/angle of the face but no amount of trying could capture the mood of it. (I've a few more on the back of the sheet without much improvement.) 

I didn't do a mini project in March, but I think an idea for a mini April project is brewing. But now I'm off to get some sexy bobbin/pirn pics.

Six-Month Lockdown Commences Tomorrow... Among Other Things

Win's friend Jean took me to Blenheim to see the National Exhibition yesterday, but I'm not sure which I enjoyed more, the exhibition or our conversation. The exhibition itself was a little cramped and I had to concentrate to really see as many pieces as I could, but there were a lot of nice pieces. I'm also disappointed the gallery (their staff hung the exhibition) did not take advantage of the height; because I expected it, as I walked into the space it looked to me as if all the work settled towards the bottom of the gallery and I needed a little time to adjust my perspective. Though if you didn't know how high the ceiling is in this gallery, you may not have a problem. Here are some views, (photographs allowed here!):

(The red scarf on the plinth is Dianne's!" 

* * * * *

I've had Foot-in-Mouth Disease for a while and am finding social situations difficult. On Sunday at a neighborhood do, I kept saying the stupidest things without thinking, just to fill in the space; I came home exhausted and wanting to crawl in a hole.  During lunch at Win's yesterday, I suddenly started talking about my weight! (WTF!!) and try as I did to shut up, I was on autodrive. And I ate too much; Win is a lovely cook and I eat too much every time she feeds me.

I don't know what's happening, but for now I'm choosing to think it's not my head. Anyway, I'm looking forward to very little social situations in the foreseeable future. (Read on.)

* * * * *

Today was the last day of this term of our drawing class. I'm not going the next two terms, (read on), and possibly the last term, (this, depending on my parents' health when the Northern autumn/winter approach.) But I have mini projects in mind to keep me drawing, albeit less regularly.

* * * * *

Six months from today we will hang our Beginnings exhibition. I've been obsessed about what I'm going to make since I spoke with Pat two weeks ago, but have now progressed to the stage where I need to concentrate, so I'm going into a six-month lockdown.  I love lockdown before exhibitions and always look forward to them; this is a little longer than usual, but I'm thinking big, and I'll need the time towards the end for possibly several weeks of mindless weaving. I'm almost giddy thinking about the next six months.

I'll post about my progress separately after I discuss blog posts with Group R on Monday; I'm sure it'll be fine for me to talk about what I'm making, but I read somewhere it's best never to assume things when working with a group.

EDIT: Pre-exhibition lockdown often means I'm potentially even more "vocal" here. You have been warned. 

* * * * *

This afternoon I saw a film called "In Search of Haydn"; if you are a fan of classical music of that era, or play an instrument, you might want to see it. In it was one pianist, Marc-André Hamelin, who had a very physical way of expressing what he thought about Papa. I can't imagine how I could describe it, and it was a very short clip in a not-very-long documentary, but his hands and upper body changed shapes as he spoke about parts of Papa's piano concerto; I was absolutely taken by the, ahem, symphony of his words, physical expression, energy and emotion. It also reminded me of how I melted with Pekka Kuusisto's physical performance in the Australian documentary "4". (I had a link to the video on YouTube back then but this will do.)

Last year when I was home there was an incident where Mom and I were talking about textiles late at night, and I, as per usual, got animated, which in tern alarmed Mom and she suddenly and sternly told me to settle down. And that was the end of the conversation; she wasn't going to have be behave "like that". I felt like shouting, "Have you been listening to any of it?"

I never understood why she became so upset, and dismissive, as I was no livelier than I usually am when I talk about work. I felt sorry she didn't share the same passion; probably more sorry for myself than for her. I love musicians who get involved with their instruments and their work, as if their instruments become part of their body; I feel the same when I catch staring down at the cloth I've just woven while sitting at my loom.

* * * * *

I received yet another exotic (for me) paper yarn from Sandy. Life's starting to get more complicated with the arrival of these, I tell you. Thank you, Sandy!

* * * * *

April Spools Day this weekend!

* * * * *

Forgot to give you a wee present. Have a look at this!

Productive, I think

First thing this morning I exercised for about half an hour. Then I worked on the Festival blog for about two and a half hours; happily, this brings us almost up to the weekend before the Festival, so the Committee, (mostly Joan,) doesn't have to worry about the Internet-related stuff as folks concentrate on last minute preparations. Unless there is a change or a big announcement. Or if they totally run out of things to prepare and decide to cook up a post. 

I finished the second piece on the colorful warp and here it's relaxing on the loom. I did the Italian hemstitching again; I'm getting slightly faster but it is still hard to keep the length even. Happily, I don't have enough warp left for another piece, so I will weave some fabric with the remaining warp, This time, I'm going to use only the dull olive green and gold in the weft, I think.

These are three cotton warps I prepared, oh, so long ago. They are narrower, about 12 inches from memory, and possibly shorter than my regular 8 meters. I want to weave more subtle versions of the colorful stuff, either in blocks or in my so-called "Rococo" inspired style.

This Friday is the last session of drawing for the term. I did not enjoy this term; extreme closeups of mostly face parts in schematic and line drawings, sitting down with a board on our laps. I'm not that interested in precision drawing any more, and when sitting down it's hard to move away from the drawing so I never know if the proportions are right until the sitting is finished and I can step away from the drawings.

I tried to liven things up a bit on my own; I used regular pencils during the first sitting, and colors during the second. I had thought Ronette told us to swap places to get a different view if we wanted to, so I stayed in the same chair because I liked this angle, and you really can't practice anything in just one sitting, but I copped a lot of flack from Ronette and my classmates teased me. So, sulk! After the break, I wanted to draw the same angle twice again, but I moved. We have Easter off, (Friday class has a three-week break; other classes have two weeks off,) then next term we're going to repeat the details of mostly facial parts but in tones this time. I might like it slightly more, but nowhere near gesture drawing. Sulk!

Judy makes the coolest cards, but today I received a pack that was a little different; she challenged me with such fibers as Hessian, paper, linen and jute. I don't think I've ever touched Hessian or jute in yarn form before, and these totally changes my thinking of my project. She said they may not play nicely with the other yarns, but I'm kind of thrilled about the challenge, especially in light of all kinds of lovely, weird, challenging and wonderful things she's been showing us relating to the course she's doing. Thank you very much, Judy!

So, not a bad Monday. And, oh, Win's friend is going to take me to Blenheim on Thursday to see the National Exhibition.  Lucky, aren't I?

What I Make

Two exhibitions opened near me last Friday; one was Changing Threads in Nelson, one was the guild's National Exhibition in Blenheim. I've been peripherally involved in one, and a curious outsider for yonks with the other, and here are some personal observations, aka strong opinions. For the sake of argument, I'm going to dichotomize their characteristics, so keep in mind the facts aren't as black and white. 

Changing Threads is a conceptual, contemporary, textile art exhibition, where techniques are sometimes secondary. The National Exhibition is more a large group exhibition of "like-minded people" interested/engaged in woolcrafts, a word included in the official name of the New Zealand organization.

Makers make whatever they like and submit entries for both exhibitions, and there is selection involved in both, but Changing Threads excludes to create the collective body of works representing the vision of the organizers while requiring individual works to reflect the brief, whereas the National Exhibition includes to the best of their ability.

If there is politics involved in Changing Threads, it plays second fiddle to the vision, the brief and the concepts, or the way I've come to see it, CT as an entity, whereas the National Exhibition embodies its faithful, largely-amateur and volunteer membership. Their target market and audience are, accordingly, slightly different though there is an overlap in a small community like Nelson, or the Top of the South Island.

To me, Changing Threads look forward, the National Exhibition reflect back; the former challenges, the latter reminisces. But this is not to say there are no nostalgic items in the former, or forward-looking pieces in the latter. In fact, this year, I was thrilled to find one artist having strikingly similar works in both exhibitions; they are two series of stiff fiber-based tubes representing tree trunks having in its hollow parts and surrounds exquisite handmade books. I know CT absolutely loves it, and I'm dying to know how it is received by the National Exhibition organizers and visitors. (Her piece in the National Exhibition is scheduled for April 2 on the Festival blog.)

These two are the textile-related exhibitions nearest and most familiar to me, and where, in the first instance, I would go to exhibit. And exhibiting handwoven textiles, mine or others', was terribly important to me for a long time. I thought, and in some ways still do, handweaving is dying a slow death in the number who practice, it requires space and long periods of preparation, it's not portable in the way knitting is, and in New Zealand it's seen as something everybody's grandmother did, (everybody has a loom in the shed but nobody knows how to use them, so if you don't buy it it'll be firewood next week!) And to boot, wool is expensive in New Zealand, and there are fewer and fewer mills here and in Australia. You get the picture.

I think, though, the picture is not that dismal; newer and often more wired equipment and the variety of ways to source and learn and platforms for exchanges and friendship on the Internet is going to keep it alive.

After deciding on that bridge in Brisbane I don't have to force every breathing minute of my life contribute to/influence my weaving, I noticed my compulsion to exhibit, having to fight for platforms for non-art/conceptual weavers to show work, had been waning for some time. It could be related to finally letting go of "concepts" after last year's P2P2; my shoulders still loosen and drop when I remember that lunch with Pat, Ronette, Nola and Megan when I said it out loud for the first time.

It could be because, albeit for only an hour a day and two or three days a week, I have been weaving consistently of late, and every day I work on projects, not just thinking but arranging wool balls, looking up books, touching equipment, drawing, coloring, cutting up papers and making 3D models, and visualizing. I feel like a weaver and I've been so interested what I make or could make and there isn't time for other things. This really has been the best it's been in a while.

There's no guarantee I won't go back to thinking lots, but I learned a little bit more about own making; mine is not a straight line but like a heart; it expands and contracts in irregular cycles. Or, I'm like a snail not just with my speed, but only by looking back you can see the wiggly path I took. The only problem is, I tend not to like snails. :->

* * * * *

Rose has some personal photos of National Exhibition in her Flickr. I'm not sure how I can show you Changing Threads, other than a few that may appear in our local press.

* * * * *

Edit: I made a mistake. The "conceptual" pieces put in Changing Threads and the National Exhibition by the same artist were not as similar as I had thought. The piece in Changing Threads is as described above, but the one in the National Exhibition has a box, a couple of books and some flax weaving, and the work received a Merit Award.

The Way my Life Works...

The hearts blanket was placed in a clothes dryer by an au pair and was reduced to a doll-size mess. Lucky I still had these under the couch; fringing is painful for my arms so I've had these in the usual holding position for nearly a year, but they've been moved to the waiting area that is under the coffee table. One of these will eventually end up in the hands of my, I think, almost 3-year old client.

Meanwhile, her little sister wants a pink/ivory/brown blankie. No rest for the slow weaver, especially when she goes overseas to see an exhibition on a whim.

Money, Books, Clutter and Depression

In a way I'm thankful the Brisbane trip was so expensive, because there were so many books I wanted in the GOMA and QAG museum shops and the State Library bookshop. (Minor inconvenience: these art books weighed a ton, and I went on the cheap fare that allowed me 7kg of carry on bag only, remember?) My apartment was half a block away from what looked like a big used book shop, but I only took photo of the place. I felt virtuous not wasting money when I'm trying hard to cull stuff.

You may find this unimaginable, but I was not always a hoarder. In fact, I grew up with a fabric- and yarn-obsessed mother, so for a long time I didn't need to stock. Now, there is a different story in her case; she grew up in a large household during the war and from memory several of their houses, consecutively not simultaneously, got bombed and burned. She watched her mother trade precious kimono with food, and then her mother died shortly after the war ended, and Mom effectively became the female head of a large household, with a small staff, as I understand. When I was a kid, she bought stuff in bulk if she could, fabric by the bolt, when bulk buying wasn't so widespread in Japan.

Books were the only thing I collected, but at least until I got married I read everything I bought before I bought more. Then came two significant changes in my life: around '92 Japan went into the recession that continues to this day and the first think I noticed was books began to go out of print. Up until then, in Japan, most books I would have been interested in never went out of print, and there was a good change larger stores had them on their shelves on any given day. in '94 we moved to New Zealand, and never mind stock, there just weren't the big bookstores.

When I started to weave, I had to oder everything from far away, like Ashburton, or the USA. After we moved to Nelson, there was one weaving store, in Picton about 90 minutes away, but this closed soon after. And because I live at the bottom of the plant and shipping/posting cost so much, I tended to order a few extra cones/books just in case. As a beginner, I could justify needing a little extra for practice, or reading them as I progressed and understood more. At that point, it wasn't a problem.

And then early this century, I was diagnosed with mild to moderate depression with a large side order of anxiety. (One psychologists, who spent the longest time investigating my various complaints, thinks anxiety is a bigger problem in my case.)

Whatever the causes, I started buying things. Not a lot, per se, but often. I also became a bargain hunter and started to buy things I don't use, just in case. And I couldn't keep an inventory of similar things I already had. And I was aware culling, at this point, was a bad idea because I was unable to make decisions of any kind, including with what to part.

It started with weaving books and yarns, but extended to other books, art supplies, fabric, spices/herbs/sauces, household cleaning products, aromatic oils, body soaps and moisturizers. Plus, I helped Mom clean out her stash big time twice, I salvaged large amount, including sending back NZ yarns she brought home on her numerous trips here.

I was aware I was buying, but I wasn't aware I had a psychological need for it; I was saving them for when I resumed normal, productive life. I was aware, too, my things were taking up a lot of space, but I kept everything, waiting for the day my head came right, so I can declutter "correctly".

About the time we repainted the stash room in mid-2009, I got tired of things taking up space and I could see the buying had gotten out of hand, and I've been trying to declutter ever since. That I can even think and talk about this is a sign my head's been in a good place for the last 12-18 months; whatever panic attack or doubts I feel have been mostly normal ups and downs or short-lived.

Household cleaning products were first to go; not thrown out, but from time to time I'd engage in intensive cleaning even while I was sick. We gradually reduced the types of products I buy and switched everything to supposedly "green" products. The many, lovely, un-cheap body soaps and spices/herbs/sauces we just used, and only two hideously hot sauces remain from those days, though they are nice and we dip into them occasionally. Fabric, some books and some yarns have been donated to charity or given to friends. But there is still so much more, not just stuff, but cardboard boxes holding stuff, which we no longer see because they have been there for a while.

There were two triggers for writing this post, one being about a month ago I noticed there were gaps in the linen closet and I could see how few aromatic oils and moisturizers I had. (Still many, but that's relative.) The other was just last week I had thought my yarn stash looks so much better than before, until I went downstairs and remembered I had transported about a quarter of the stash there while I worked on relevant projects. I burst out laughing because my yarn stash is still very, very big. I can keep weaving a variety of things for eight to ten years without buying another ball, I figured.

Books I want to read before I cull, because I do buy interesting books. Yarns, as long as I am able, I'm weaving with them, because I kept only nice yarns. 

But the point is, I can think about this, and talk about this, without crawling into another dark hole. And that's a good thing, a big change.

I did buy one book on Matisse in Brisbane, but it was so heavy I had to post it home.

Art and Me

While I walked around Brisbane and inside the galleries, I felt compelled to have to learn things that would directly tie in with my work. I thought that was the purpose of my trip, and kept shooting ordinary repeat patterns in architecture, mumbling, "How can I use this?" and the answers were usually, "I can't, not really, it's boring."

Then, while crossing one of the long bridges across Brisbane River,  I asked myself what's wrong with just enjoying, looking and experiencing art, and I had no good answer. That's when I decided that not "studying" art but just enjoying isn't a bad thing, and that I'm not wasting my time or money just savoring the sensation. And that's when I decided I didn't have to take pictures of every interesting building or sculpture or crack in the sidewalk.

A month removed, these two paragraphs read so ordinary and you may ask why I'm bothering to post this, but I have a very bad memory and whenever I go away the urge to record for myself what I'm experiencing usually wins over the urge to just immerse myself where I am and experience it, and I end up with a lot of pictures, especially this side of digital, with which I don't know what to do after I upload them to the computer, and still feel guilty culling.

This was one of the few trips in I've managed to concentrate on seeing, hearing, smelling and a little bit of touching and eating Brisbane, and didn't bother to photograph or record, (i.e. write, or worse yet, list!) as much as I might have.

This was a big shift, and a big load off my shoulders. I don't know if I can always do this, and there were a few things I wished I had photographed, (students in bedsheets stampeding in torrential rain rushing to what must have been one giant toga party my first night would be at the top of the list,) but I think I made the trip a more saturated experience because of this.

I feel I established a bit less adversarial relationship with art, and a bit more amicable one with myself. 

Note to self: try this again.

Brisbane

One month ago today, I left on a five-day trip to Brisbane, Australia to see a Matisse exhibition. It already feels like ages ago.

This afternoon I was looking through photos I took while there, and discovered I didn't take many, and they are all of appalling qualities, partially due to the weather during my stay, which was either tropical torrential rain, (some places "near" Brisbane started flooding before I left,) or humid tropical blaze. It was, though, was an eye-opening trip for me, so I'll post a few photos. (All the galleries except Matisse allowed photography, but I didn't take a lot and the few I did came out, oh, so badly.)

This map is way out of proportion. The Queensland Performance Art Centre (far left) was like a small city on its own.

Inked and sun-burned. The day I went to see Matisse, I think I was inside GOMA between six and seven hours.

Just outside the Matisse exhibition was big area where visitors were encouraged to draw.

Cafe adjacent to the Matisse exhibition; I loved the bird cage lamps.

This is a function area of of the State Library of Queensland; it was a spacious indoor/outdoor area with kitchen facilities, but on both occasions I went there there was nobody around. In the panels on the sides was some of their teacup collections. I saw the teacups from far away and really wanted to get to this space, but once there most of the panels are so high up I couldn't see the cups very well.

Ground floor, Queensland Art Gallery. I sat on a bench for about an hour reflecting on all the art I saw in Queensland, and envied the largeness of scale of everything Australia. I tried to memorize this place so whenever I meditate, or feel in need of an escape, I can return in my head.

 Close-up of the picture frame of a Lautrec painting. 

Wheelchair ramp, Queensland Art Gallery. Even close up, it looked like a tapestry, but this was paint on board, from memory.

The Treasury Casino, formerly the state treasury building, and what a beautiful building it is. Across the street, on this side, was a "modern/public art" piece that looked like a giant kitchen utensil. There are so many public sculptures in central Brisbane.

Batman's HQ, I thought...

New part of Brisbane; thinking of Christchurch, I didn't want to be in this part of town very much.

During the guided tour of the Matisse exhibition, we spent quite a long time in front of the drawings for the Barnes Murals because there were few visitors who were particularly interested in the work. The following morning, I opened my balcony window, and, whoa, serendipity.

Brisbane was lovely. And fantastic. And mind-blowing. But I was glad I live in Nelson, because Brisbane offered too many distractions for me to concentrate on my making. This was shot from my balcony window before I left.

Brisbane was big, bright, but not as brash as I had expected. The scholarship behind not just the Matisse exhibition but many others at both GOMA and QAG were high; they installed/hung artworks beautifully; printed material, lectures, and films associated with the exhibitions, many free, were excellent, and the staff, paid and volunteers, were exceptionally well-informed.

The galleries were beautiful, with plenty of indoor and outdoor sitting areas to rest and reflect on the artworks; bookshops were well-stocked with interesting and/or rare books in addition to their own publications; even the cafe food was great. I was mesmerized by the combined largeness and excellence of the galleries and shows, and felt strong multiple jolts telling me Nelson is a small place and there is so much out there in the big wide world.

Australia, and particularly Queensland at the center of Australian mining industry, has not been touched by the recent recession. Everything was expensive, including the exhibition catalogue (A$50, and no, I didn't get it, because it was so heavy!), accommodation, and food. Because I stayed in an apartment, I cooked most of my meals, having only two lunches at the galleries, but still I ran out of cash I took with me quickly and the trip cost far more than I had estimated. Although entry to most galleries were free; I think I only paid for the Matisse exhibition, which was A$20.

On the other hand, having lived in financial dire straits, both personal and worldwide, for quite a few years, I had forgotten how people walked and talked when they are experiencing good times; forward-looking, uplifting, and thinking big. I needed to be reminded of that. 

Australia is really big. The central part of Brisbane has good public transport, not just on the ground by also on the river, but it's also easy to walk around. Something I can't experience in Nelson was taking 15 and 20 minutes to walk from one end to the other of one building, or to hop over to the next building. That in the torrential, tropical rain, or the humid tropical blaze.  

When I think of visiting Australia to see art, I automatically think of Melbourne and the state of Victoria, but again, there is a big world out there, even within Australia, and it was good to be reminded of it. I'd like to keep an eye on what exhibitions GOMA hosts, and if possible, go back to Brisbane with Ben so he can experience that city. Though expensive, it's so near and we don't need to be away for weeks and months for a new experience.

You do realize, though, I'll be weaving and posting a lot about "merchandises" because, did I mention, Australia was expensive?

Some facts:

Nelson to Wellington is a 25-minute flight; Wellington to Brisbane was around 4 hours; Brisbane Airport to the center of Brisbane by train was about half an hour. The longest wait was A) having bags checked and getting out of Brisbane Airport, (somewhere between 60-90 minutes,) and waiting for the train at Brisbane Airport, (the train ran either every 30 minutes, or I think every hour when I arrived.)  Wellington Airport charges NZ$25 to exit, but Brisbane Departure Tax is included in your flight, and people working in the travel industry don't seem to know what Departure Tax is; at least not the ones I asked.

You can use NZ credit cards on EFTPOS machines in any old shop in Brisbane, with your regular pin number; in fact if you have the new chip style credit card, transactions were much faster on the Australian system.

I expected to see many of the same brands on Australian supermarket shelves, because we import so much of their stuff, but that wasn't the case. I also had a hard time finding the variety of yogurt we have in New Zealand.

Julia and Kev did all that just to entertain me on that Monday, I know. 

In 1988 when I first visited Australia, I was amazed how tall everyone was, even compared to Minnesota, especially the women. I wasn't mistaken; I saw so many extremely tall Aussies, well over 6 feet. There was one surreal moment in one of the smaller rooms exhibiting Matisse's earlier drawings: it was around 4.30, golden time, only people who haven't got the heart to leave hang around, taking longer in front of each drawing. There were three of us in the room, me and two tall men. One was tall, probably around 6"4', and I had this familiar sensation of belt buckle walking past me face. But I kid you not, a few moments later, a pair (??) of buttocks walked past my face; this man was older but with good posture, and he wasn't all out of proportion like some tall folks are, but he was... tall, and even the other tall man stared at him.

WordPress Bloggers

WP recently changed the way we are (not) allowed to log on and leave comments. I don't want to allow WP to access my Facebook information so I can't seem to leave comments on WP blogs. I don't have a Twitter account. Does anyone know how else to comment?

And this includes not being able to say CONGRATS and wishing a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Judy.