the dolmades were gone by 9pm and we wailed that there were none left over.
saturday night cosmic nesting was unveiled at the Black Wattle Gallery in Cobargo. I don’t know what happened but saturday was freezing and those canberreans that ventured down here on friday came upon snow. it was oh my god cold but then the next day warm and today so hot with a northerly blowing it ‘s hot and dry at us. remember this it is saying I am summer come to give you a taste of what will be. I water the seedling and pray the summer is not too fierce for us pale lillies. John did the horse duvvies again the melt in the mouth smoked trout and caper with home whipped mayonnaise and mussels and prawns. Glenda and Rob arrived with the vine leaves a large jar of olives and their fun. the dolmades were gone by 9pm ands we wailed that there were none left over. there was baklava and chocolate cake, there was red wine and white. there was a trestle table on the sidewalk and flowers and candles illuminated the glow of friendships and coming together laughter. directly at seven bec said, I am doing it now, opening the installation and we filed into the gallery . t’ taaa .. the curtain was swept aside and people flocked in to wonder ,to a brightly painted spiral of creative dreamings arising out of a basket woven from family bibs and bobs ,friends offerings, discarded sheets, hair and old guitar strings, shells feathers,rocks and a lizard whistle. from out of the forest of the faerie embassy it grew snaking around and around to contain all that can Be. a story woven of a Saturn return; the journey from birth to now, from stardust to form. from an idea to a nest one can sit in and listen to songs to a poem of mine. a living mandala to breathe into. it was a magical jellybean road production and drew old friends out of the past. there was the artist in her brown velvet trouser suit with an earnest expression on her face giving a heartfelt speech about possibilities. there was the little king in his nana made truck shirt and funky hat quietly eating olive after olive after olive and then straining to reach out to the hommous and scoop it onto a finger. his mum and dad in fashionable groovy retro comfortable in their skins now as parents of an almost 2 year old celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary. there was John sitting outside in the dull light of the freezing evening,a bag of oysters at his feet knife in hand and opening them on demand. there were people buying jewellery in the gallery, talking politics,discussing art and deep ecology, building and gardens. there was a concerted effort by Skye to discover Johns dolmades recipe. and the very next day we found out that the front doors of the gallery had not been locked. someone had walked in ,a passing tourist who on realising the lights were not on notified a shopkeeper across the road which sent the town into a squirrel of activity to find someone with a key to take charge and lock up. . that’s cosmic for you. the doors to the realm of art were opened and remained open . what a world that would be without locks or fear of loosing something? without defences and sureties!!! just come on in and look around , my heART is open. you are welcome. what a world to imagine what a dream to dream.