Shortlist

Thrilling email arrived yesterday. One of my paintings has been shortlisted for the 2015 Milburn Art Prize.

When I made the shortlist in 2014 my family, my parents and my in-laws came to the presentation nights. The gallery was a sweaty crush of people trying to look at the art. Last year's entry The Red Peril was 40 by 40cms, which was dwarfed by the other entries. Linda Back, the president of the Brisbane Institute of Art (BIA), gave a moving speech about the late Paul Milburn and the origins of the art prize in his honour. Bruce Heiser, a local gallery owner, was the judge and announced the winner. Christian Flynn, who also works at the University of Queensland Art Musuem. When it became clear to my partially deaf father-in-law that I had not won, he attempted to console me. Using a raised voice to get over the hub bub he said, "Not to worry, you can always put it in the Ekka." Unfortunately his timing wasn't great, as he spoke the crowd hushed and he had a wider audience than intended. He successfully blew away any pompousness surrounding the event.

During the school pick up I told my girls about my good news. First they congratulated me, then advised me not to invite Grandad this year. Clearly what I had found funny, they had found awkward!

Radiant (gathering ideas about imperial obsequiousness and radical libertarianism)                    Ink on Japanese paper

Mirth

I heard a comedian talking about audience response to his stand-up routine - he was astonished to notice someone choosing to say LOL rather than actually LAUGH OUT LOUD. I'm not sure what we can read from this, but I know that it made me sad.

I am a person who laughs out loud, sometimes snorting and often even slapping my knee. Over the years I haven't been able to help but notice how differently people respond to my expressions of mirth. One camp will say "gee your laugh is loud" in an unenthusiastic way, whilst the opposite camp thinks having me guffawing helps them to access their own funny bone.

When I first met my perfect partner in life I was immensely attracted to his wit and joke-telling ability - perhaps part of the reason he was attracted to me could have been the vocal appreciation I showed. I would happily give way to laughing fits that became tears and struggling for breath. The resulting sore cheeks and rib cage I felt as a blessing.

Luckily we have managed to pass this appreciation of humour on to our children, though the teenagers will sometimes stifle their amusement, I'm hoping it's just a stage. Don't hold back, don't just text it, do it.

Heavy Hearted

Felt so heavy hearted last week that my eyes were leaking. The girls wanted to know why I was sad. I explained that so many of the women I know are emotionally exhausted. Exhausted from loving, supporting, fighting, staying calm, being rational, being crazy, being co-dependant, being independent, caring too much about others and caring too little about themselves.

I was heartened to hear about some Icelandic history. On October 24, 1975 the women of Iceland took the day off and rallied to protest their low status and wages. The country ground to a halt. Five years later Iceland elected a female president, a single mother, a breast cancer survivor. During the campaign a male opponent protested her credentials to run "You can't do that you're a woman and half a woman at that."  To which Vigdis Finnbogadottir had the wit to reply "I'm going to lead the country, not breastfeed it!" MAGNIFICENT!

As inspiration I downloaded Helen Reddy's empowering "I am woman", listening made me smile again.

Admiration

THIS HOUSE OF GRIEF is another spectacular piece of writing by Helen Garner. This one an observation of the trial of Robert Farquharson, who drove his three sons into a dam one Father's Day.

Helen gives us this beautiful snapshot of the jury's fatigue "Once I glanced over and saw four of them in a row, their heads drooped on the same protesting angle towards their left shoulders, like tulips dying in a vase."

Garner by name and garner by nature - she amasses facts, feelings and descriptions which when read makes us question our own moral compass or guidelines.

What would I do in that person's shoes?

How does it feel to be a discarded man?

How would I cope with having my three children drowned?

New Year No Fear

ABOVE by Isla Morley is in my Great Reads category. It combines the abduction and imprisoning of a young girl with post apocalyptic themes. She explores the human spirit, our fears, our hopes and our propensity to draw together as a species. Isla is interested in the idea that good will triumph or even that goodness is part of our nature. Through Adam's eyes she rekindles our wonder at the world around us. Adam shows us that it is possible to put fear aside, to embrace what is in front of us.

Reading through James Clear's article gives some insight into fear, FEAR TELLS US WHAT WE HAVE TO DO. James sums this up with a great quote from Steven Pressfield, the author of THE WAR OF ART: "the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul." I'm using this to remind myself to push though any reluctance I feel, because often reluctance is resistance to change.

Emotional Range

Recently in THIS PICTURE OF YOU by Sarah Hopkins I read a line about photography that went something like “that’s why I love it, you can actually see that every moment is different”. If we press the shutter continuously looking at a single subject each resulting photograph is different though sometimes in a minuscule way. Looking at a set of images like this helps to remind us to appreciate each moment for its uniqueness.  I immediately thought it was a great description, then the more I thought about it I both agreed and disagreed.

Because, when I look at a stranger’s photos I feel a sense of familiarity, an emotional pull. So whilst it may be true that every moment is different, perhaps the range of emotional responses to an image (or anything) is limited and it is this limited range of responses that links us as humans across all dimensions.

So when I look at this image of children I don’t know, taken somewhere in Japan, sometime in the 1930s I feel like a child again running around with my brothers, so a sense of happy nostalgia. I also feel a tug at my heart as it reminds me of my own children and that wonderful (though sadly brief) sense of intense companionship they have.

Ordinarily ordinary

The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy by Rachel Joyce

I have just finished this extraordinary book that celebrates the ordinariness of life. This struck a chord deep within. I remember railing in my journal three years ago about the propensity or sheer desperation with which people were pursuing hedonism, summed up in the phrase “living it large”. I wondered why we weren’t content to live small, why we couldn’t celebrate simply being alive and alive to the wonders around us. My guess is that those who find contentment in the ordinary are not natural shouters, perhaps they are more humble people.

I used the internet to search for clues on how to be more humble, not using mirrors was one tip. That got me thinking about glass. I’d been told that until the invention of glass and its use in houses as windows, people had no idea about the state of filthiness in their homes. With the light shining in through their windows they could properly see and this is how the first impressions about a household’s cleanliness were formed. This seamlessly leads to the way advertisers have been able to illuminate us about all sorts of human failings. Before advertising we didn’t really have strong opinions about how people smelt, their odours, malodourous or otherwise. Along with the information that products could make you smell better, came the beginning of us assessing a person by their scent. Critical how this has invoked all sorts of societal fears. These fears help to drive consumerism. This busyness with consumerism helps to eat up our time, leaving us with little time to think in a more philosophical manner.

When we use our time to think deeply, emotionally, rationally, we are more likely to see how precious an ordinary life is. Not in a “how special am I” way, but that we are not alone in being. It is this commonality of experience, this sharing of life that makes it all bearable. Recognising this is the essence of a happy life.

I see red

Upworthy is a website I became aware of through Facebook - something worthwhile. Last week I watched Dominique Christian perform her slam poem about menstruation. By the end I felt so emotional - a kind of righteous anger, a wish that I could express myself so eloquently. As my daughters are growing up I have become more concerned about the society they are a part of and the lessons they absorb from me as their main female role model. How do you adequately prepare your girls for both the subtle and unsubtle sexism they will not only encounter, but have to endure. I just loved Dominique's skill in taking down the protagonist who upset her daughter and prompted he to pen this response. Equally, she used this skill to talk about the power of menstruation and womanhood.

The last time I felt so powerfully connected to all the women in the universe was when I read The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. Both these women have really made me think about what it is to be a woman and how we can benefit from strengthening our bonds with other women and to be supportive of them. In high school there was a period (no pun intended) of time when I was shunned by my female peers. This experience led me to distrust women or more particularly gangs of women. I still maintained a few close friendships, but did not see myself as part of a community of women. Reading The Red Tent challenged my perceptions and I was able to open up my heart again to women. To be more trusting, to take risks with my personal stories. Listening to Dominique helped me to express the protective rage I feel concerning my daughters, but it also strengthened my determination to open their eyes to both the perils and the wonders of the world.

Peace

I collaborated with the kids at my daughters' primary school to create a wishing tree. Every student had the chance to write or draw their wish or wishes. The wishes ranged from heartwarming to heartbreaking while some were wishes for themselves the majority were for others and the wider world. The most common wish was for PEACE. This was expressed in many ways that showed that these children, aged 5-13, really understood not just the destructive nature of war, but also the causes of war. They know that the lack of food, education, shelter, clean water, health care and a meaningful occupation leads to despair.

I watched Jody Williams, Nobel Peace Laureate, speak on TED and she is adamant that we properly define what PEACE means. "A sustainable paece is when the majority of people on this planet have access to enough resources to live dignified lives,.......so they can live in freedom from want and freedom from fear."

She urges us to take action, I think that before action comes awareness. I'm so impressed that this group of children have that awareness, it will be interesting to see what action they take.

Melancholia

The exhibition titled Melancholia is currently showing at the University of Queensland Art Museum. I was interested to see it because like echothatemotion, it deals in emotions.

The walls are filled with art and snippets of writing related to the emotion of MELANCHOLIA. As someone with artistic ambitions I love this one from Aristotle.

"All those who have become eminent in philosophy or politics or the arts are melancholics."

Looking at this woman in her kitchen and empathising with how she might have been feeling, I understand what Michel de Montaigne is saying here.

"There is a certain amount of purpose, acquiescence and satisfaction in nursing ones melancholy."

Or as my father-in-law would say,

"You don't want to spoil a good boo by laughing."