Sunday, 10 June 2012
No title.
I haven't written a word in a week or so. I'm still searching for something to say, well that's not entirely true. I have a lot to say, but I'm struggling to distill the ideas and assemble them into some form of literate architecture. When I find the right entry point, I'll let you know. I really love how sci-fi novels just drop you in there, right in the middle of all the action. You're scooped up, heart pounding, over sensitised and holding on for dear life. I'm gonna start my next post like that. Promise.
Friday, 1 June 2012
Shifting geographies.
What is it about this year in particular that has everyone re questioning their lives? Perhaps it's that psychological theory, I can't remember the name for it but it plays out as follows: One day you buy a blue car, and then all you seem to notice is blue cars everywhere.
At the moment my life is awash with blue cars in the form of people seeking out creative truth, or better yet searching for the main line directly to it. How is it that so many people in my life are at the same stage of theirs? Is it an age thing? Is it cyclic? Is it personality driven? Either way it's rife.
Some days I'm strolling through life, happily distracted and relieved that I don't have too much to stress about. Other days, life is oppressively drab, lack lustre and repetitious. I don't know if the wild swings from bizarre to banal is working for me.
I saw a production once by a Japanese art collective Dumb Type. The show was called 'Voyage'. There was a striking and amazingly powerful scene with two women who on an expedition caving, find themselves lost. They couldn't see each other and could only barely hear one another. Frightened to move, and too frightened not to, they were calling out struggling to stay in range. Seriously, sometimes I feel like both those women calling out to the other, with shaky hands grasping a very heavy torch.
So it's the second day of winter and I'm feeling it. I must say it's not particularly cold, it's just that Melbourne winters can be a challenge. Not that there's a blizzard, or constant rain or snow, but there's a subtle shift that occurs that's palpable in this moody city. A southerly that curls everyone inward and mutes all the colours. Melbourne in the depths of winter is a creeping black fog that you just can't shake. My answer is get the fuck out!
This time a year ago (knowing how bluesy I get in the wintertime) I took a job for 3 days in Alice Springs and then a night in Darwin, followed by three weeks in the Kimberly. On the plane flying over the desert into Alice, all I could think about was how relieved I was to be lifted from that inky black mist of Melbourne town and over into the orange and red dust of the desert.
Revelling in every kilometre of earth-from-sky view over the gorgeous Indian ocean. Ahh Cable Beach in Broome...
The dramatic wide expanses of the central desert, the luminescent Indian ocean in Broome and Begal Bay, and the soul changing Kimberly is where I long to be now . Unless you've seen it and felt it, there are no words that can describe the colours out there. Photos will never translate.
Cape Laveque at sunset.
In the last three years I've found a healthy distraction in travel. I've been around Australia a few times now to every place on the weather map - bar Port Hedland (but I'm told I'm not missing out on much there). Maybe that's how I've gotten away, ran away, sailed away, flown away from really having to deal with the miscarriage of my life as a dancer. It's still movement, and maybe that's what's sustained me. But my shifting geography internally just keeps catching up.
At the moment my life is awash with blue cars in the form of people seeking out creative truth, or better yet searching for the main line directly to it. How is it that so many people in my life are at the same stage of theirs? Is it an age thing? Is it cyclic? Is it personality driven? Either way it's rife.
Some days I'm strolling through life, happily distracted and relieved that I don't have too much to stress about. Other days, life is oppressively drab, lack lustre and repetitious. I don't know if the wild swings from bizarre to banal is working for me.
I saw a production once by a Japanese art collective Dumb Type. The show was called 'Voyage'. There was a striking and amazingly powerful scene with two women who on an expedition caving, find themselves lost. They couldn't see each other and could only barely hear one another. Frightened to move, and too frightened not to, they were calling out struggling to stay in range. Seriously, sometimes I feel like both those women calling out to the other, with shaky hands grasping a very heavy torch.
So it's the second day of winter and I'm feeling it. I must say it's not particularly cold, it's just that Melbourne winters can be a challenge. Not that there's a blizzard, or constant rain or snow, but there's a subtle shift that occurs that's palpable in this moody city. A southerly that curls everyone inward and mutes all the colours. Melbourne in the depths of winter is a creeping black fog that you just can't shake. My answer is get the fuck out!
This time a year ago (knowing how bluesy I get in the wintertime) I took a job for 3 days in Alice Springs and then a night in Darwin, followed by three weeks in the Kimberly. On the plane flying over the desert into Alice, all I could think about was how relieved I was to be lifted from that inky black mist of Melbourne town and over into the orange and red dust of the desert.
The dramatic wide expanses of the central desert, the luminescent Indian ocean in Broome and Begal Bay, and the soul changing Kimberly is where I long to be now . Unless you've seen it and felt it, there are no words that can describe the colours out there. Photos will never translate.
In the last three years I've found a healthy distraction in travel. I've been around Australia a few times now to every place on the weather map - bar Port Hedland (but I'm told I'm not missing out on much there). Maybe that's how I've gotten away, ran away, sailed away, flown away from really having to deal with the miscarriage of my life as a dancer. It's still movement, and maybe that's what's sustained me. But my shifting geography internally just keeps catching up.
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