Monday, 5 April 2010

i was in sydney for 21 hours

I caught up with 2 lovely ladies I met in Berlin.
I hunted for a horse statue in the Botanical Gardens my Dad told me he slept under one night in his wayward youth. I found one but don't know if it was THE one.
I looked at the sparkling water and skinny terrace houses and giant motorboats of Sydney and as usual thought 'I should visit properly sometime soon.'
I went to the beautiful wedding of two beautiful people and ate and drank and danced and was moved by the ceremony and the speeches and all the joy and love.
An eight year old kid ruled the dance floor all night, not in a cute kiddy way but in a kind of supernaturally possessed by the groove way that had people staring and commenting and congratulating him as the night drew to a close. I wonder if he will keep it up or will get awkward and shy about it as he grows up.

Monday, 22 March 2010

My new special power

Last week, buses and trams consistently failed to see me. Slamming their doors and pulling away just as I was about to step inside, or simply sailing past me as I waited at the stop. Repeatedly.

I can't help wondering if this is a natural progression, a symptom of how things are going, in general, between me and the cosmos. I have been a magnet for catastrophe and failure of late: I imagine them creating a kind of signal-scrambling haze around me, the more they accumulate. Possibly I am actually becoming invisible.

If you happen to spot me on the street, please let me know.

Thursday, 18 March 2010

Tuesday, 16 February 2010


"Future analysis with new technology may shed more light on the mystery of the moving rocks at the Racetrack Playa of Death Valley; however no matter how much is determined about the moving rocks, their beauty and magic will always be impressive and mysterious to those who travel the treacherous gravel roads to visit the incredible dried lake bed."

Friday, 12 February 2010


Utopia Now looks like fun... I must go back and see it without champagne goggles on and so many hobnobbing people in front of the art. That was nice in its own way, of course, and there were showbags with little jars of chutney in them! and a view of a very full river after the big storm.

I met the maker of a work called International Dance Party I had already enjoyed at the kunstlerhaus bethanien in Berlin and I was bummed that I wasn't there earlier to see him and a French artist secretly swap name-tags to get interviewed by the ABC about their works. But I did catch them afterwards discussing in admiring terms the interviews they had given as each other (complete with an explanation for the journalist as to why a German artist had a French accent).

I didn't get to check out the exhibition version of You Were In My Dream by clever Van Sowerwine and Isobel Knowles but will be sure to when I go back.

Also wondering whether to try to catch Momoyo Torimitsu's robot businessman crawling along Collins Street this evening.