All posts tagged: art

Does Chaka Khan know I polished Gertie the Giraffe for her at Australia’s recent Blues Festival?

Published by

Of course she doesn’t. But I do. Hello lovely folks, thanks for dropping by. I am recovering from four days of a Blues music festival (as punter, not musician- not yet anyway). And three days full time work helping to set it up before that. “Artist Decor Assistant” is the official title; what it really means is lots of climbing up and down step ladders, staple gunning vintage fabric to the temporary walls of incoming artists’ dressing rooms. It’s the second time I’ve done it, and I loved it even more this year. Transforming a big, blank, box of a room filled with even smaller blank boxes into a vibrant, welcoming, eclectic and interesting creative space is thrilling to me… especially when one of the performers is Chaka Khan! This year’s line-up included one of my favourite disco singers; who here over 40 hasn’t danced to ‘I’m Every Woman’? Exactly no one. So when I was told to polish Gertie the Giraffe ‘… because she may go in Chaka’s room…’, I leapt to it. Never …

From rockstar to writer: the return

Published by

Hello lovelies, how are you all? Having just spent 3 months very focused on my punk cabaret band Mutton, including touring to 5 different venues, and being away from my beloved rainforest home for WEEKS, I’ve had an epiphany! I’m still a writer, even when I’m not writing. Which means I’m also still a blogger, connected to this community, albeit while it constantly morphs into something new. Of course, a writer needs to write, and practice their craft; gone are the days of my thrice-weekly blogging, and the constant commenting and connecting we all used to do here. Part of me misses those days… but they were also a particular time, pre-Covid, pre-TikTok; we are ALL different since then. So I write killer arts grants, for myself and others. I write songs now. I’ve entered a few Slam Poetry competitions, and will continue. I still write in my journal (although not daily). Last month I kinda wrote a love letter. Sure, I’m not published, other than a couple of short stories in anthologies years ago, …

New year, new me: come visit my Australian punk cabaret band Mutton!

Published by

Hello lovelies, it’s been a loooooooooooong time between posts I know. How are you? Hello once again, where I’m swinging by to invite you to visit my new creative project ‘Mutton’, a post-menopausal, post-modern, post-punk, pre-apocalyptic drums and bass duet! We sing, we swear, we play bastardised covers and dodgy originals, and we are having the best fun. You’ll find our website HERE. We have stunning photos, upcoming gigs, and a good feminist vibe. So pop in to say Hi. Who knows: perhaps we’ll end up coming your way one day? If you’re in Australia, you’ll find us in Gosford, Bellingen, Brunswick Heads, Wollongong and Sydney in February… Then back on the couch recovering for most of March haha. In complete and utter gratitude for the privilege of creativity and my drumming determination, Love G xO

In my next life, I’m coming back as a sculptor, & here’s why

Published by

The little seaside town 10 minutes down the road from me just hosted its 3rd ‘Sculptures by the Sea’ event. It was simply wonderful, and began with sandy shoes scattered in the grass- hands up who hates sand in the house or bed after a walk on the beach? There were dozens of pairs, of all different types of shoes, re-purposed from the local op shops. The Spring weather was glorious, and it was lovely to just stroll around the parks and break wall, marvelling at the local creativity and talent. I was in such a relaxed daze though that I barely registered any artists’ names, so can’t give credit where it’s due; my apologies. That big old kangaroo had a good story though: a social worker told the artist she advised angry young boys in her care to take up a kangaroo stance, and send their fury down their tails into the ground behind them (an Indigenous strategy). My favourite aspect was the emphasis on recycled and found materials being re-purposed; the weaving with …

For the second half of our date, we met visual artist Patricia Piccinini at Brisbane’s GOMA

Published by

OK, that statement may not be strictly true… After our great night together, my date and I decided to treat ourselves to a café breakfast in the morning, then go to the Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA). Siri was back on board being deceptive, so after yet another convoluted journey via a random overpass network (those things sure are hard to get off once you’re on), we lashed out on underground parking just to get rid of the city-car-driving responsibility ASAP (no traffic lights or roundabouts in my home town y’see). Then in the Gallery foyer, the descent into Patricia Piccinini’s darkly vivid and futuristic imagination began: Flowers? Brains? Sacrums? Aliens? Who knows. But it’s just the start… A few years ago, ’17’ and I went to the Adelaide Art Gallery during his school holidays, and rounded a corner to see this sculpture ‘Mother’ displayed in a huge archway of her own; we’ve never forgotten the shocking image. Here she is again, no less disturbing to me: Using silicone, fibreglass, human hair, and wax, Piccinini’s …

What was my 51st birthday present, you’re wondering?

Published by

I waited 3 weeks, carrying it with me from Australia to France, under instructions not to open it. So at last the moment came, at 1am on birthday morning in my cute orange tent under the walnut trees (which was absolutely my birthday good and proper in Oz)! It was a 2nd hand book. A kid’s book. A classic, nostalgia-filled, heart-warming kid’s book, which sat on every single bookcase in Australia (and America? Did you have one?). Except… H ripped out all the pages. So I got the cover, and the inside cover, where clumsy young fingers would proudly print their names: Then as you can see from the chickens, it all went a bit rogue and unpredictable! And that’s because dearest H is the most amazing collage/graphic artist, and spent hours making me a unique record and interpretation of our dating journey, from the first cheeky email in October, to the meeting under the Flinders St clocks in Melbourne just before Xmas, and so on and so on and so on. I wasn’t going …