Get some taxidermy in your day.

My friend Michele, who is herself a very clever artist, put me on to the work of Claire Morgan. Check out loads of her stuff at her amazing website. Here's a taste of her fairly astonishing creations. Any girl who delivers taxidermy and dandelion seeds in one installation is on my list of personal role models. Thanks to Michele for directing me to this work.

Christmas creativity collapse.

Oh man. If the aardvark was a real live living aardvark, it would have totally have died of neglect and exposure and starvation and many other things that kill in a slow and debilitating manner over the last couple of months.

Any semblance of creativity has been totally smooshed out of my brain with a frying pan called 'I have a day job'. Work always seems to go stupid at the pointy end of the calendar and this year was no exception. I find myself entertaining fantasies of unexpected and stupendous wealth on a daily basis. Not so I could have heaps of things, but so I could have heaps of time.

However, I have been loving the little pockets of light in my new house and at least have some photos that I have been having fun playing with. Here are some.

And on the first day of my holidays, I sprang out of bed with the urgent and all too familiar I-must-move-furniture-around-immediately feeling and have finally configured our dining room in a way that works.These kinds of pressing furniture placement issues are generally consuming my brain when I am not thinking about my day job. Which I am not even sure if I want anymore. But that is a whole other barrel of cranky monkeys.

The dining room has been tricky from the start of the new house. It has a hilarious chandelier which is obviously a great start, and french doors and high ceilings so you know, it's not like it hasn't got things going for it. But every time I walked in there I felt like someone jabbed me in the eyeball with a fork. It was not right. It was wrong.

But now I think it is finally looking like a friendly place to be. It's still not quite there, I'm not convinced that in it's heart it's  a white room. Gold maybe? Or red? What do you think?

I love our new house. It makes me happy.

First....

Home made kitchen curtains with very wonky hand stitching.

Outpost.

Cockatoo Island is so good. I mean, it's just this perfectly sized, slightly weird, almost beautiful little droplet of land in the middle of the harbour and it feels like a small encapsulated universe all of it's own.

It's even better with art. Here are some of the things I saw yesterday at the Outpost exhibition.

 

Oh my.....

Look! A crochet aardvark! Awesome! I love him.

This came from Planet June where a very clever crochet queen displays her work and sells the patterns so that you too may crochet an aardvark if the urge takes you. As it probably would.

All at sea.

This whole house buying shenanigans has left me a little dislocated. In all the thrill of purchasing our very own house, we were so caught up in what we were getting, that we didn't maybe give full consideration to what we would no longer have.

So, amongst the excitement of acquisition and the promise of a stable future, there is grief and sadness, felt especially keenly by my lovely son. The fortunate creature had spent his whole entire known lifetime living in the one geographical location. Although we moved around a lot from one rental to another, we were always cocooned by the amazing coastal landscape and a known community.

In our new setting we are suffering some home-sea-sickness and feeling a bit displaced. We are having to appreciate that our responses to the new are indelibly tied to our responses to the loss of the old. And it is a real loss; a sense of drifting, disconnected from the landscape and the humans that populate it. We are no one in this new place. We are unknown and apart, where we used to be tethered down, held in our place in the world by our known-ness. There is a strange sense that anything could happen here, it feels a bit dangerous, a bit unnerving; we have lost sight of ourselves as others see us.

The very nature of home has shifted under our feet. And we are floundering, trying to reconcile a pervading sense of longing with the fact that we are home. Perhaps at the minute, it is more accurate to say, we are in our new house, but we are still looking to find our way home.

First....

...dirty glasses left out overnight by slovenly homeowner.

First time ever in own home (an occasional ongoing series).

First baking extravaganza. Sour cherry and coconut rolls.

First nail in the wall. For the giant Cuban rosary with glow-in-the-dark Jesus. Naturally.

 

And first unveiling of the new faux fur bed sleeping device. I call him - the snow leopard.

Oh my goodness hello.

Holy shitballs. We have just spent 6 weeks with no internet access at our home and survived. I have not made a single aardvark post (clearly) and my email inbox is totally bonkers. Today was the day that the little green blinking lights of joy came back on and thank the lord for that. I'm sure anyone who was interested in the aardvark has by now given up and moved on but hey, I'm back, and I'm happy, even if nobody else especially minds.

Move me.

You know you are losing your moving momentum when you cross the threshold from neatly packed and labelled boxes to a random assortment of unrelated items shoved into any available receptacle. For example, sitting at my feet right now is a kind of beach-picnic-insulated-cooler-bag that hasn't seen the light of day for some time. In this bag are -

• a roll of brown paper
• a lint (dog hair) remover roller thingo
• a pack of neurofen
• a manila envelope with info on counselling courses
• two comic books
• a single 1970s smoked glass tumbler
• a roll of toilet paper
• a Fijian axe
• two sexy red spoons
• an empty glasses case
• an Edward Gorey book
• a Peggy Honeywell CD
• a delicious magazine
• the packaging from the awesome 70s cutlery that we scoobed off my mum in law
• nail polish of various colours

I feel like this is a good metaphor for my brain and general levels of organisational efficiency at 6pm on day two of the moving bonanza.

The space in between.

I don't really feel like I live anywhere right now. My brain is frothing to get into the new house, my heart has definitely flown the coop and my physical body is sitting here amongst the chaos fighting the urge to just lie down on the floor and wile away the hours dreaming of colour and checking on the design files. 

And it's pouring. This is not a helpful incentive for cracking on with the pointy end of move preparation. Today it's the kitchen. My helpful husband has done some of the kitcheny bits already but I will be tackling the crockery and glassware armed with a mountain of newspaper and a sturdy disposition. Come to think of it, my disposition may need to be bolstered by a mountainous cafe breakfast before I can truly apply myself to the complexities of packing box politics.

In my down time yesterday I continued my search for some drawers that are not hideously awful as we need more clothes storage at the new place. This is due to the fact that we have very strategically purchased a home which has no storage in it at all. Not a sausage. Apart from kitchen cupboards. So, drawers are required. My question is, how come every single affordable second hand item of mid century furniture is in Melbourne? I mean, I know they are cooler than us and everything but I hadn't realised that this extended to a total monopoly on every single item I wanted to bid on from ebay. Seriously. I could have furnished my entire house in three days if only I lived in Fitzroy and wore desert boots and was studying architecture and enjoyed restoring vintage fixed gear bicycles.

So. Here are some of the things I found along the way that I do not have geographical access to, and cannot afford. But I'm not even sad that I can't afford them because really, it's a joy just to look at them. They're all from a beautiful store called retrocloud.

I spy.

Moving is very time consuming. But here are some things that I saw in the last few days.

 

Just to clarify...

Just in case you are thinking I am some kind of insane person who goes to weddings and thinks it's all about art, the most best reason I liked this wedding was not actually to do with me and my nerdy art breakthroughs. The real best thing about his wedding was seeing two completely delightful humans jump around in a bucket full of happy and be so fabulously cool and gorgeous and in love. That was the real art. Congratulations Katishe and Gareth, you guys are unreal.

Revelatory art breakthrough bonanza. With doilies.

On the weekend, I went to a wedding. I drove a long way to a beautiful place and went for a walk on the beach and then saw my friend be super happy with her handsome man-husband. And there was cake.

I liked this wedding for many reasons. One reason was the cake. Another was the girl with the immaculate black bob, seamed stockings, red lipstick and killer curves. Yet another was the wind-up-toy wars which erupted as the night wore on. But the special reason I liked this wedding was that it made me see myself in a slightly new way. And that is a very neat trick.

Because I gave art as a gift. Art that I made with my own hands, and a bit of help from Dave at the printing place. This means I was able to suspend my judgment of myself as not a person who makes art, and see myself as someone who might possibly make art and may even be confident enough about the art to give it to someone else. This was kind of amazing to me.

And my very special friend Sally Jackson did things to my getting-married-friend's dress with doilies that you would not believe. She made doily art and it was the best. So here are some photos of it.

Rooms I am liking today.

Holey dooley.

So, for a few of you who have very kindly been following along since the beginning, you will know that the story of the aardvark is all about the attempted awakening of my dormant creative brain. Dormant believed deceased, in fact. I have been experimenting with creative projects and having oodles of fun blowing on the glowing embers of my mind. Painting, tick. Photography, tick. Poetry, tick. Singing, tick. (Haha! Didn't tell you about the singing. Secret singing.) Crocheting, tick. I may have even briefly contemplated a musical instrument. But now, at last, I have come across a project which has me absolutely hooked and gasping like a speckled trout. I wanted a creative project to work on. Okay, hows about a whole entire house.

Cause that's what happens when you buy one. Quite suddenly, every single aesthetic concept you have been secretly squirreling away in your brain for the last decade wants to haul ass out of your head and get a hearing. This makes it quite difficult to sleep.

I don't know about you, but I grew up in my mother's house. And she was totally in charge of what that place looked like. I mean, it was nice and had some art and some cool rugs and stuff, but household aesthetics were firmly in control of the matriarch. And fair enough too. I would have had life size Kenny Loggins posters for living room wallpaper if I'd had my way. And after leaving my mum's house, I lived in rental houses for my whole life. Dozens and dozens of them. Which means that when I move into our new house in about 3 weeks time, it will be the first time ever in my life that I am actually in charge of what my house looks like. Mind boggling, yes?

Thus, every morning when my eyes snap open, my brain just continues it's unstoppable monologue as if sleep had been nothing more than a brief lapse in concentration. Inside my brain, it sounds a bit like this, ".....and then the Parker could go against the side wall and oh my god what if Jimmy made us one of those built in bench seats right under the dining room window and it could have storage under it and I think we should pull out the weird shrubbery beside the garage cause it would make a good herb garden if it gets enough sun and the bathroom I'm thinking seriously charcoal with gloss white window frames or is that all a bit twee the grey thing is so borderline overused right now but soft soft pearly grey maybe like baby rabbit fur grey and I wonder about a headboard I mean what is the purpose of them anyway but what if it was a bookshelf headboard just like a bookshelf built around the bed shape and then it could have the ceramic bunnies on top oh no they might fall down so perhaps the softie collection could live there and we'll need at least two more magnetic knife holders I could get those wooden ones from etsy that I love and really the only wall long enough for the giant bookshelf will be in the dining room and what if I painted the wardrobe white and put the jackalope decals on it...."

Who knew it would be so insanely, immensely fun to be able to think about this stuff? I mean, painting classes were fun but this, this is a whole other packet of squid. Mmmmm, squid chips.

I spy.

Prosecco (i)

Prosecco (ii)

The Home Paddock.

After the river

We walk up the hill

You in front

The gloss of your silt heavy hair

A firework, a flare

Lighting the way

And I follow

Cicada song

Fills my heart

Burning like bees

My bright honey blood

Sails ever onwards

Slow and thick

With longing

Our bare heels

Strike the earth

Like tiny hammers

And I am hypnotised

By the long grass

Closing quietly

Behind you.

 2011

Get your grown up pants out.

Well. With remarkably little fuss, interrupted by a few rounds of overwhelming nausea, we have for real bought us a house. We have happily joined the ranks of the terminally indebted and I don't even care! Here are some of the reasons why -

• I will never have to see another vertical blind inside my house, ever.
• I will never have to cook another meal in a salmon pink kitchen.
• I can buy a shitload of these......

 

                                                           ........ and screw them willy nilly into my walls.

• Gas baby, GAS!
• Nobody can throw my family into turmoil and unrest by selling the house we live in to someone else who will also want to live in it.
• Original 85 year old beautifully polished floorboards.
• I can finally buy my husband the coolest bike rack ever and set it up. But I can't show you a picture cause then he will see it and the surprise would be a bit less surprising. And where's the fun in that.
• Painting parties. 
• I am going to get my friend Jimmy-the-Builder to knock a bloody great hole through the dining room wall. A hole. In the wall. That I don't have to putty up when I leave.
• I no longer have to engage in the insanity which is the grossly inflated rental shitfight in Coledale where I live. Lived.
• Last weekend, the corner store ran out of newspapers. This is a sign. For sure.

So what with the ominous portents and the rising rent bonanza, it really is time to go. Besides, I have a whole lot of shades of grey to consider. And some cracking vintage lace curtains to air out.

                        

From the market today.

Yellow

Green

Red

Brown

Orange

The big house.

Okay. So I think maybe this blog is going free range. Yes, the original concept was to talk about the creative process and all it's manifestations, but I am finding that it is a bit impossible to restrict myself to such a limited palette. Cause, you know, a lot else is happening. And I would quite like to write about it. So I'm gonna.

For instance, in the last 10 days we have pretty much bought a house. Just like that. Found it, loved it, did a crash course in how-to-purchase-a-home-when-one-is-generally-clueless-about-such-things, and now are awaiting our final approval from the bank. It seems the bank is actually willing to give us a slab of money, for which we will of course be eternally indebted to them, and I am filled with amazement at how attached I have become to the idea of never having another house inspection ever again. Haha! I encourage you to imagine my gleeful chortling whilst I contemplate this joyful turn of events.

I spy.

Apple and ginger cake (i).

I spy.

Apple and ginger cake (ii).

I spy.

Apple and ginger cake (iii).

I spy.

The special Dr Suess present tree. A handy reminder of the niceness of my husband.

I spy.

In the Nasho. 

High level distraction.

On my god, I have fallen back into the role of neglectful and uncaring blog administrator with very little aardvark action taking place in the last few weeks. In my defense, I have been a little preoccupied trying to find us somewhere to live. This is not as straightforward as it may sound, and is in fact completely doing my head in. I am utterly mental with not-knowing-what-to-do-ness. Do we a) try to buy a house, b) rent another house, c) stay where we are in the hope that this house i) doesn't sell or ii) the new owners want tenants in it or do we d) go live in the local caravan park and stop thinking about all these questions that do not have answers because they relate to a future that I cannot possibly predict?

Why is life so tricky like that? And why am I so concerned about making the right decision? Usually I just sort of do whatever seems like the easiest thing. But right now, nothing feels easy. I might have to bring out the big guns and try to crochet my way out of this pit of complexity. Plus tomorrow I am going to spend a whole bunch of time painting; finally making a start on the series I thunk up a while ago. If it goes well I may even be brave enough to post some photos of the progress. My hope is that his process will help my brain to find it's way back to equilibrium. 

And I still can't get that damn poem right. Because, you know, I'm sure you're just waiting with bated breath to read another one of my poems.

Hey, I just had to think a bit then to remember how to spell 'bated breath' so I looked it up. Check this out on World Wide Words - who even knew about aphesis? And I suffer from it! Heaps of my mates drop the first vowel of my name and go with Thena (or Theens or Theenyboo). They are subjecting me to aphesis! (Jessie Williams, I'm looking at you). I feel so relieved to have a diagnosis for this debilitating affliction.

I think I want a job at World Wide Words. Maybe just part time. Like, once a month or so. In between using all my precision honed analytical skills to decide where the hell my family is supposed to live. Yerg.

I spy.

I love the way things have insides and outsides. These photos are the inside of a leek that I sliced open whilst making soup. And to me, they seem totally unrelated to the outside of the leek which is like a whole other tubular, tufted creature.

I spy.

Really, as if I would let the dog lay on the bed.

I spy.

Me and the three teenage boys went for a walk in the National Park on a drizzly grey day. We got kinda wet and they played bush ninja games and I took some photos.