city sights today
The visit to my home town is for family reasons, but fortunately not my family-made a pragmatic decision to spend time with A's family (who are in need of us this time round) and avoid the dramas of my own. This is a quick visit, with only today to myself. Had an amusing conversation with my 2 year old nephew last night. A showed him a picture of me holding him when he was a baby. "That's not me" he said confidently. "I'm not a baby". Trying to explain the concept of time ("no, you're not a baby, but once you were") was kind of pointless. It seems that being a baby is a ridiculous and unworthy idea. He is growing up fast, did a wonderful multiple verse recitiation of the Bob the builder song, complete with a drum performance and dancing (very Taikoz) and then sang and danced his way through a Jewish nursery rhyme he learnt from The Wiggles (it has a detailed dance move involving arm crossing that he did particularly well). This morning he had a desire to do magic, swining his blanket above his head and trying to make himself disappear. Loves hide and seek, and pressing the pause button on the DVD remote (that makes him chortle with laughter every single time, the gag never loses humour).
Stayed at my sisters last night. Her friend explained his decision to move to Port Adelaide coinciding with a desire to photograph the old buildings and industry of Port. He even chose his current apartment/flat to live in after photographing a Cleo Bachelor of the Year who once lived in the old/new building conversion.
I love old city buildings. Have been snapping some today, the photos won't be much (camera phone) but they sometimes work out, might inspire a drawing or a print. Over the years the city buildings are gradually being revealed, thanks to some pragmatic landscape architecture. Beautiful old brick and stone buildings, narrow town terraces that are jagged up into the sky with far off windows and bricked in door ways. Everything in the winter sun looks red or blue, the great contrast. I love Australian sunshine, can remember being overwhelmed by it when I returned from the northern hemisphere. Even in winter, there is some brightness to look forward to.
Two favourite moments: the clean lines and full shelves of Wilson organic grocers and the friendly staff, that sense you get being in a public space with like minded strangers. You let their words and conversations drop in around you, and can easily interact if you need and swap something in a natural way. Then I sat down to read Rosie Scott's book I picked up at Treloar books on Grote Street, and it was as good as I hoped. She writes fiction the way that Helen Garner writes her memoirs (for her fiction is always a kind of memoir, intricately and wonderfully written, good at picking up on the emotions of domestic moments).
It was fitting that the lead character of this book was going through a city change like me, finding herself at home in the day in a new town whilst her partner works, adopting the persona of a languid stay at home sexpot, all moisturised legs and silky drapes (don't quite do that, but have been lying on rugs in the backyard reading and sipping water with lemon slices). This time in the sunshine is making me as confident and relaxed as her character, as drolly attentive to my partner, not out of desperation of boredom, but actual interest and love. A commented on it. So I oscillate, one day still inclined to overthink and worry about my vulnerabilities, about incorrect decisions made from insecurities and then the next day, I embrace my creativity, my wonder, my observation, my imagination and the rich and varied journey and experiences it has brought me. Like me, her character gives in to anxieties, finds that a fight with her partner makes her miserable and angry and filled with sullenness that can last overnight and make her resist the small healing touches. She also points out that its the void, the letting go of a frantic busy city life, that gives her all this space for her mind to be filled with both loving and anxiety. Love how fiction ends up being the healing agent for me (rather than self help novels) and non-fiction is for a creative release. But it makes sense: it is wonderful to be part of a big passionate experience.
So now I am in the State Library, enjoying the atmosphere of industry, concentration, space and the visual pleasure of full bookshelves. From time to time other people's eyes flick past me and I them.
Stayed at my sisters last night. Her friend explained his decision to move to Port Adelaide coinciding with a desire to photograph the old buildings and industry of Port. He even chose his current apartment/flat to live in after photographing a Cleo Bachelor of the Year who once lived in the old/new building conversion.
I love old city buildings. Have been snapping some today, the photos won't be much (camera phone) but they sometimes work out, might inspire a drawing or a print. Over the years the city buildings are gradually being revealed, thanks to some pragmatic landscape architecture. Beautiful old brick and stone buildings, narrow town terraces that are jagged up into the sky with far off windows and bricked in door ways. Everything in the winter sun looks red or blue, the great contrast. I love Australian sunshine, can remember being overwhelmed by it when I returned from the northern hemisphere. Even in winter, there is some brightness to look forward to.
Two favourite moments: the clean lines and full shelves of Wilson organic grocers and the friendly staff, that sense you get being in a public space with like minded strangers. You let their words and conversations drop in around you, and can easily interact if you need and swap something in a natural way. Then I sat down to read Rosie Scott's book I picked up at Treloar books on Grote Street, and it was as good as I hoped. She writes fiction the way that Helen Garner writes her memoirs (for her fiction is always a kind of memoir, intricately and wonderfully written, good at picking up on the emotions of domestic moments).
It was fitting that the lead character of this book was going through a city change like me, finding herself at home in the day in a new town whilst her partner works, adopting the persona of a languid stay at home sexpot, all moisturised legs and silky drapes (don't quite do that, but have been lying on rugs in the backyard reading and sipping water with lemon slices). This time in the sunshine is making me as confident and relaxed as her character, as drolly attentive to my partner, not out of desperation of boredom, but actual interest and love. A commented on it. So I oscillate, one day still inclined to overthink and worry about my vulnerabilities, about incorrect decisions made from insecurities and then the next day, I embrace my creativity, my wonder, my observation, my imagination and the rich and varied journey and experiences it has brought me. Like me, her character gives in to anxieties, finds that a fight with her partner makes her miserable and angry and filled with sullenness that can last overnight and make her resist the small healing touches. She also points out that its the void, the letting go of a frantic busy city life, that gives her all this space for her mind to be filled with both loving and anxiety. Love how fiction ends up being the healing agent for me (rather than self help novels) and non-fiction is for a creative release. But it makes sense: it is wonderful to be part of a big passionate experience.
So now I am in the State Library, enjoying the atmosphere of industry, concentration, space and the visual pleasure of full bookshelves. From time to time other people's eyes flick past me and I them.
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