Tweve Angry Men

It's interesting watching the characters emerging from rehearsals of a play I am in called 'Twelve Angry Men' which I think was written by Reginald Rose (it's difficult to pinpoint the original playwright because so many different versions have been produced and made into film). It's about a lone dissenting juror in a murder trial who gradually brings all the members to his way of thinking but it's also a play within a play about twelve real life men shut up in a room twice a week with egos and agendas.

Collage

Back to collaging. I like the way it fragments the image.

Confusion

Confusion reigns for me at the moment. Should I paint/collage/sculpt and can I? Should I earn a living/need to/want to. Am I worthy/despicable/ordinary. If I had one year left to live would I be angry/sad/indifferent/change anything.
In this state I tend to look outside myself for direction when all the time it is my motor that needs overhauling.
Go back to simple things and just do, I say to myself, without thought of approval/dollars/time.
I started writing this blog because I felt a need to express myself through words but I've met so many brilliant blogger friends that lately I feel I am trying to keep up with them and not doing what comes naturally.
Naughty boy. Denise is in Australia with her Da and Sam is at the mountain snowboarding so the house is my studio and I'll be messy and eat biscuits and collage to my hearts' content.
Yes I've made a decision!!

Change of pace

Of a sudden I notice the light is coming earlier and wonder if I am apace with the seasons. I feel I should be but fear I am not. It takes time to warm the sea and green the land and yet I exhort my silverbeet to stop sulking and provide my dinner.
Nature has spent her wintertime here smoothing the footfalls of man. A pretty shell is left unturned on a deserted beach, the rabbits are bolder and the fish, without an obstacle course of hooks and propellers, are closer to shore.
The change is imperceptible, but once noticed, becomes change itself at any pace

The Time of Year for Tax

Preparing my tax returns is like eating chilli, I'm so glad when the pain is over and the warm, fuzzy feeling pervades. Until I have to pay the tax and that's much worse! Imagine if there were no taxes and you paid for everything as you used it. Sounds like a fairer system. If you can't afford it, you can't have it. A tax is OK if it is distributed well but now it seems to be swallowed up in a bottomless pit and we still have to pay for health, education etc.
Our Prime Minister John Key (what is it about him that I can't take seriously, he looks like a small boy caught in the headlights) said for the first time yesterday that we are coming out of the recession. The only (among other things) thing is that he rose to the top as a financier and is likely to pursue similar bad ethics to aid our recovery.
We ain't gonna learn so maybe we should give money for driving a small car or being a lifeguard or fireman or living in the country or bringing up a handicapped child or making music or luvin one another.
Channel materialistic urges towards good.
Yeah I'm dreamin'

Flight of the daughter

We farewell our youngest daughter Sarah this morning. She has given up her GOOD JOB and is flying out to London for two years. Good on her, there is plenty of time for good jobs and mortgages and family. I hope she understands that if she goes belly up we will be here. It will make her braver to follow her dreams.

Edvard Munch dragged into the modern world by Pollicino

Anton Refregier

In the 1930s Anton Refregier one of the greatest social realist artists to have worked in America during that time made the following quote:

“In this middle period of the 20th century, we are faced with the dilemma of reconciling the profit motive and the cultural needs of the American people. There is no denying that the capitalist system has provided material abundance unknown in previous history. It has been less successful, however, in implicating the spiritual values which would make that abundance meaningful in terms of human satisfaction.
In consequence, we find ourselves in an anomalous position. The richer we get in possessions, the poorer we become in their enjoyment. The leisure we have earned by mass production is a source of worry and unease. We are not quite sure we know what to do with it. In short, the profit system is not capable of providing the fullest cultural development of the people.”

Pertinent today?

Life, film, life

What is it about films that they can move me enough to want to cry.I'm not a crying type of person. I remember when I owned my first dairy cow and went out twice a day to see if she had produced her first born. One morning I could see in the distance the little calf trying to struggle to it's feet which filled me with a sense of delight. However coming closer I realised why it was struggling. In her concern for the newborn the cow had accidently trodden on the calfs' leg and broken it which meant the poor little thing, fighting for life, had to be put down. I sat for a long time agonising about the unfairness of life before I found the courage to do what had to be done and my face was wet with tears.But its death was not in vain. It taught me to respect all life. In my job as a farmer I have since killed many animals from a pig for the table to an old, diseased dog wanting release (she had disappeared for three days to die but came back when it didn't happen and sat and looked at me) and have always paused and felt for the animal before the act.Anyway back to films. We saw The Reader last night and Kate Winsletts' performance brought me close to tears but there was an easy antidote, just watch Ralph Fiennes incredibly wooden performance. Does he ever change??

House plans

The first concept plans for the house have arrived from good friend Linda Vugler and we love em! All earthy and curvy as if it has grown out of the rocks around. We would like it further into the hill so we can walk into the garden from the front right terrace. It will mean we don't have to have a balustrade and have an uninterupted view out to sea. It is a small house, only about 170 sq m with lotsa outside areas and surprises so in winter we have only a small cosy area to keep warm but in summer it opens out with plenty of inside/outside living. The top left area will be a bedroom and a studio/bedroom opening out to a roof deck.

I suppose our excitement will be tempered when we start dealing with consents from the council because it is not conventional but at the moment I can't wait to start (it'll be a few months yet!)

Cooking classes

Thinking about how to explain breadmaking on this site has brought me around to starting cooking classes in our area. I have the first on Tuesday and the next on Saturday and have had a good amount of interest. They run for 3 hours over lunch and will be hands on making ciabatta bread, pizzas and focaccia. The venue is Flaxhaven Lodge a bed and breakfast place next door to us with a well set out kitchen and beautiful grounds.
With our moderate recession, jobs have dried up around here so we have to think creatively to keep the wolf from the door and help pay for the new house I'm going to build!
Never a dull moment!

Creativity

When my creativity is low (as it is at the moment) I realise I am trying to run my art separate from my life and it just doesn't work. I've been in the zone sometimes when life and art flow with no boundaries and it is exhilarating and very productive. Lynton Lamb has a great analogy below..



“For serious artists, painting is a permanent attitude of mind. It is a scheme into which the general run of experience fits. However difficult it may be to reconcile work and life there remains a sense in which, as Saint Paul said, “all things work together.”If painting is a relaxation quite separate from his ordinary living, it will not be strengthened by daily experience, it will be weakened by its contrary direction.It will become something outside itself, to be maintained by visits: like a distant allotment garden into which he occasionally inserts an artificial flower.Preparation for Painting, Lynton Lamb, 1954

Safely in Fiji

I did go sailing

We ate well

And arrived safely!

Good to be home though. Flew back yesterday, 3 hours compared to 10 days on the way up. Learnt that there is a hell of a lot of water out there and you are on your own. Lovely strong boat (48 Swan) but I think I will stick to my catamaran, more room and not so much rolling!

Fiji is struggling. With the recession and the military government the resorts are virtually empty and tourism is their main source of income. Wonderful people, tall and graceful with a great sense of fun.

I wish them well.

Fiji here we come

Sam and I are off sailing to Fiji this morning so my site will be silent for a couple of weeks.
There is a big anticyclone over NZ at the moment so the weather is cold but brilliantly clear and not much wind. I might have to change my book from Jonathon Livingston Seagull to War and Peace!
Keep well

Aunt Betty

I buried an Aunt yesterday. My fathers' sister. Of course there is sadness of a soul passing but she lived to the great age of 97 and still driving until a few months ago. It was more a celebration of a life well lived. She was a tiny woman of the old school, faithful wife and mother who painted landscapes of the area she lived in all her life. In my memory she will remain like a small bird listening on the lawn.
The last uncle and aunt were there looking startled by all the fuss and perhaps wondering how soon the family would gather again to send them off with 'she could make a lovely pavlova' or 'he cleared the land by himself with just an old horse'. How do we want to be remembered? Only by the decent things we've done? Or also those that have made a difference to peoples' lives.
And the cousins. Some I hadn't seen for 30 years. We parried with small talk of children grown and husbands dead while trying to read each others' eyes of affairs and disappointments, of small successes and lives not quite well lived.
But the bonds are strong. We grew up as a big, sprawling, close family and forgive each other small indiscretions and will continue to meet at weddings and funerals.

I am Sailing

Well maybe I won't post my experience in bread making until I video myself doing it. I think it will be much easier to explain it that way. I know that all one of you are poised waiting to plunge yourselves up to the elbows in flour but I'll do it soon.
Well maybe later than sooner. Son Sam and I have been offered a passage to Fiji to help good friends Neil and Martha sail their 50 foot boat to those lovely islands in the middle of the Pacific. They are on their way to Hawaii and it is their 22nd time they have sailed to Fiji so the experience will be invaluable for when we sail up in our boat.
The trip will take a little over a week depending on the weather and we will stay for a week to do some surfing and soak up the sun then fly back to the harsh realities of our winter.
I know I'm going to pay for this awful life I lead. Hope it's in the next life!!

Staff of life

What is it about breaking bread that is so satisfying? To pass a loaf of crispy ciabatta round the table so each person can break a piece to sop up the juices on their plate has a deep symbolism way beyond the action. Sharing, communion, passing the peace pipe. I don't really know.
The bread in NZ is awful. I can't imagine passing a loaf of the doughy, white, processed rubbish around. Even on my last visit to France I noticed a lot of bakers have gone away from traditional methods and started using quick rise agents to the detriment of the delicious baguette.
From my hippy days with an old broken woodstove I have always made bread. I love the act of doing it, the smell of it cooking and the sharing of it. Staff of life comes to mind.
It is not easy to make. Experience tells you when the dough feels right and even if you have a good recipe it doesn't mean it will turn out OK.
I'll post a bit of experience tomorrow!

Godzone

How is it that I feel kinda guilty about the country I live in. Visitors from overseas usually tell me how lucky I am and how if they had the chance they would live here too. Is this normal behaviour? There are places in the world where I could live for a while but I have every intention of staying here for most of the rest of my life.
But it's reading about my blogfriends in countries in turmoil such as Tazeen from Pakistan that brings the guilt feelings out. How can we be so removed from the suffering. Can't we do more to help those less fortunate. Should we help our less fortunate first.
Of course we also have problems (relative). We have a high rate of family violence and child abuse (is it because we have an 'open' society with systems in place to recognise these?), a high teenage suicide rate, a clean, green image which is a deception because of the amount of chemicals used in our farming practices, an underclass, usually Maori or Pacific Islanders on poor wages who can only live day to day and fill our jails disproportionately.
Is it the nature of man that makes it difficult for us to live together in harmony? It seems even animals have a better idea of how to exist together in groups.
Looking around the world, who has got it right? Some systems are more right than others but we still have a lot of work to do.
Peace and love

It's a hard life!

This morning when I arose I saw a fingernail I made myself a

Kneaded my

Watched the

Walked through Eltons' frosty

Down through the

To Lonely Bay with smelly

and built a

A handful of words

A herd of clouds is grazing on a distant convoy of mountains while a bevy of whitecaps upsets the rhythm of a flock of boats netting swarms of silvery fish pursued by angry crowds of gulls.
Even the horde of trees shudder and retreat before the bucket of breezes and a protest march of sand blows amongst the city of dunes and a one only lonely sun watches and weeps a constellation of tears.