As I walked along my street tonight I looked at the half a dozen or so houses with Christmas lights. Aside from the Santa with moving arms and head, there’s really nothing spectacular about the lights in my street. It’s not the kind of street where people are likely to drive up and down looking at the pretty lights. Although the apartment upstairs has some on their balcony, it’s the terrace houses (where I guess they have children) who have them. And no one seems to have gone to much effort
In the midst of a crazy couple of days, I needed a moment or two of bliss-out child-like non-concentration. I know I’ve mentioned this before here, how I like at least half an hour of absolute complete silence when I get home, but it came up again in conversation again today at work. A colleague who consumes a fair bit of media, and who, like me, spends his life talking and listening, told me he too demands complete silence when he arrives home.
Perhaps it’s an issue of work-life balance? Perhaps things will be different when I’m working from Lismore next week. But in preparing for that move to Lismore, I feel like I’m running out of time. My work life is extremely busy right now. And although I’ll be working from Lismore when I get there next week, there’s still a sense of a headline looming. I feel there’s so much I need to do before next week. And there’s the Christmas catch-ups.
I’m not complaining, I’m just thinking out loud I guess.
Gee, that was a relief. I managed to “survive” the telecast on ABC1 of the Andrew Olle Media Lecture without one single shot of me with a glass of wine in my hand. Conscious of a previous telecast where they crossed twice to an image of me with a glass at my mouth, I’ve resolved never to drink during the actual lecture itself.
That was, without doubt, the highlight of my Sunday which was, otherwise, spent relaxing. I’m heading off to Darwin this week, and, conscious of how exhausting “work trips” can be, I resolved to do as little as possible today. The only other “energetic” things I’ve done today, have been go to the supermarket tonight and go to lunch today at the nearby Indian vegetarian.
While I sat and ate my meal, a couple came in – a couple from an Indian background, I assumed by their facial features – and asked about the cuisine. When they were told it was vegetarian, they apologised and walked out. I found this quite remarkable. I mean, I can understand a vegetarian walking out of a restaurant that only sold meat, but I can’t understand the reverse. We spend most of our lives NOT eating meat, don’t we? So why would the absence of meat exclude you from eating at a restaurant? Sometimes I like nothing more than a big plate of pork or a steak, but I always have vegetables with those dishes (well, maybe not the pork).
And the only other energetic thing I’ve done has been go for a walk along Bourke Street. Even though Bourke Street remains a bit of a mess, and even though no one seems to be using it, I think I understand the method in the madness of the cycle-way. That was a conclusion I came to this afternoon as I walked down one of my nearest neighbouring main streets.
Only ten years ago, Bourke Street was a noisy one-way thoroughfare, balanced by the noisy one-way thoroughfare of Crown Street. Now, Bourke Street is a quiet suburban two-way with a cycle-way under construction. Oddly enough, those driving through Surry Hills have yet to learn that you don’t have to use Crown Street, you can also use Reilly and Bourke Streets.
Not what you’d call the most interesting day of my life, though the week ahead sounds more interesting: I’m heading off to the World AIDS Day Sondheim Tribute tomorrow night, and for the rest of the week I’m in Darwin. I arrive back Saturday night, and then on Sunday I have a meeting of my art group, and then a movie catch-up with a friend.
A lazy Sunday seems reasonable, in that context, don’t you think?
Bourke Street, Surry Hills
Andrew Olle Media Lecture – Cassie, Martin, James, Peter, Roger
Last year, when I visited Sweden, I was lucky enough to meet “Sandra In Sweden”.
As I noted at the time…
She’s an American married to an Australian and on her blog she writes about their life in Stockholm. They’ve been in Stockholm five years now. This month Sandra and I have swapped lives. She and Robert have been visiting Robert’s family in Australia. Co-incidentally, Robert spent much of his early life in Young, which isn’t far from where I used to live in Wagga Wagga. So while they’ve been travelling around the region visiting family and friends who live in the Riverina and Central West and visiting places I know very well, I’ve been in Stockholm visiting the places they know very well. While they’ve been enjoying the sunshine in Australia, I’ve been enjoying the ice and snow in Sweden. For me, the ice and snow are interesting and exotic, not so for Robert and Sandra. I got an email from Sandra the other day asking when I was returning to Australia. Suddenly it became obvious we had a small window of opportunity to meet each other. So at about five o’clock today, I paid a visit to their fantastic apartment on Sodermalm, which, incidentally is the place in Stockholm I’d most like to live. Literally ten minutes after they walked in the door of their house, I was there to “welcome them back”. Over an hour or so we chatted about our lives, and made some interesting observations about both Swedes and Australians
Ten months later, our lives were reversed again as she and her husband were visiting Australia. We went out for lunch in Chinatown at my new favourite restaurant, Red Chilli. I’m pleased they enjoyed it as a different, but still authentically “Sydney” tourist thing to do.
Later in the afternoon I had a nap, ahead of catching up with some friends, including The Best Judge, as well as a couple of fellow ABBA fans. A fun and wild night was had by all.
Thank goodness for the cool change which came through mid-afternoon just as I walked Robert and Sandra to the car-hire place.
“I’d like to know who approved this”, my friend David said today of the Jeff Koons exhibition at the Versailles Palace. “I mean, I quite like his work”, he added, but wondered why this world-famous building was deemed an appropriate space to exhibit Koon’s famous statue of Michael Jackson and Bubbles.
“Maybe it’s because of the extravagance of the work. Or maybe he was influenced by Versailles?”, I wondered out loud, trying to understand myself. I mean there’s a certain extravagance in his work, and he uses a lot of gold leaf, but the works did seem kinda odd when exhibited against furnishings and art work with a definite eighteenth century feel to them.
As it was my final full day in France, David suggested we should visit Versailles. “Sure, why not?”, I thought to myself, recognising that deep inside I only had a knowledge of the palace because that’s where the peace agreement for the First World War was signed. Until I did some reading, I didn’t really know it was the home of the royal family for over 100 years, and that at one point in history, about five-thousand people had lived there.
With the memory of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in my head, I wasn’t prepared for the size of the palace and the grounds. Nor was I prepared for the huge amount of tourists who were there today. Thank goodness David knew some of the shortcuts to try, and we avoided queues all of the day.
After lunch we went on an English language tour of the royal family’s private chambers during the reigns of Louis XIV, XV and XVI. As you might expect, they were quite lavish, though not as outrageous as I thought they might have been. Our tour guide, who was excellent, also gave us an insight in the human face of these royal figures, and of their own idiosynchrasies.
The story, for example of Louis XV (I think) who failed to take communion for over thirty years because he didn’t feel he could because of his own infidelity was a fascinating one.
As was the story of the transformation of the royal guards from being made up solely of foreigners (because they had no allegiances) to being made up solely of French aristocracy (as a good PR exercise for the many different areas of France, and to help the French aristocratic families who were finding things financially difficult).
Unfortuntely, we couldn’t visit the private domaine of Marie-Antoinette, due to bad weather. As in Sydney, France had a terrible storm in 1999 which the authorities had failed to warn about. “Ever since then, they’ve over-reacted to any storm warning”, David told me, echoing the experience we have back home.
With the day cut short, David dropped me at the train station and we bid each other a fond farewell.
On my arrival back in Paris, I called in for a glass of wine to celebrate my final hours here. As I walked in to the nearby brasserie, my attempt to order a simple glass of wine failed. As in high school, when I elected to learn German not French, I’ve realised once again French as a language totally eludes me. I know the words, I hear the pronunciation, but everything just comes out wrong. So I’m back in the hostel, resting up and updating my blog.
Tomorrow is a really big day for me: I’m leaving to come home. I can scarcely believe my time is nearly up. A hideously long flight awaits me, broken up by a couple of days in Hong Kong, which I hope will be just the right medicine to ensure a smooth transition back to life in Sydney.
My friends Grant, Graeme and Gustav enjoying the show from the front row.
The world is far too small.
I was just going through some clips on Youtube of one of my favourite bands, Alcazar.
They’re a Swedish pop group whose most successful hit song in Australia was “Crying At The Discoteque”. It’s also one of my all-time favourite songs.
They also did a terrific cover of “This Is The World We Live In”.
And I just came across some amateur footage of them taken in Stockholm this week and guess what?
My friends Grant and Graeme can both be seen (back of their heads), enjoying the show from the front row.
Graeme has written a brief note about on his blog about meeting Petra, by the way…
Petra Mede sat at our table during the show – I was subtle: ‘OH MY GOD, YOU’RE PETRA MEDE, YOU HOSTED MELODIFESTIVALEN THIS YEAR, YOU WERE FANTASTIC!’ Like I said, real subtle. Petra ate calimari and had a coke while sitting with us and watchinbg Magnus. I asked her for a photo later and she asked about coming from Australia etc. Told her that we watched Melodifestivalen final in a pub in Sydney on the big screen. She is a genuinely lovely lady.
Sometimes the Opera Bar can be frustratingly crowded. In contrast to the “old days” when Opera Bar only attracted a handful of theatre-goers prior to an opening night, these days it’s usually very, very busy, especially on weekends, and particularly during summer.
Although my friend Colin and I had agreed to meet at four-thirty, circumstances ensured that I arrived half an hour earlier. And as I stood at the bar and ordered a glass of wine, I looked around and noticed things weren’t all that busy, and thankfully as I stood and waited for my glass of wine a nearby table with great views became free.
And that’s where we sat for the next couple of hours, enjoying a glass of wine, enjoying the view, enjoying the overhead heater, and enjoying a terrific meal. For the entree, we chose the Antipasto which was good, and for the desert, we chose the Pear Tart which was fantastic. Highly recommended. We didn’t worry about mains.
Vivid Festival, Sydney 2011
Minutes before the dessert arrived, the light show commenced on the Opera House sails. I love the way the lights “played” with and imitated the patterns of the tiles, and then minutes later went kinda crazy with swirls and other wonderful patterns.
Vivid Festival, Sydney 2011
Later we wandered around and looked at some of the many light sculptures around Circular Quay. As much as the projections on places like the Opera House and Customs House are spectacular crowd pleases, so too are these wonderful sculptures. As well as being visually very interesting, it was great to see the wide-eyed smiles on the faces of young children as they interacted with these sculptures and had their photographs taken with him.
Vivid Festival, Sydney 2011
In the midst of a near-winter night in Sydney, it was great to see so many people rugged up, and walking around Circular Quay, enjoying this rather wonderful arts festival.
The thing about art gallery opening nights in Sydney is that they often”clump together”. They’re often on a Thursday night or a Saturday afternoon, and they’re often at exactly the same time. 6-8pm on Thursday. 2-4pm on Saturday. This is both good and bad. On the bad side, it means you sometimes have to rush between openings; on the good side it means you can move on if you think the work isn’t that interesting.
The latter is what happened for my friend and I. We were excited at the prospect of a double up with the John Fries Award at COFA (sorry, UNSW Art & Design as it’s called now), and an exhibition at the nearby National Art School. Though there were lots of lovely people to chat to at John Fries, we were both quite disappointed with the works. One of the two I’ve shown you my friend said she “actually hated”. Down below, however, there’s a terrific exhibition called “Troubled Waters” with photography, video and even crayon drawings dealing with the subject of climate change. The video work from China, in particular, is fantastic.
And so, having spent an hour or so at UNSW, we headed down Oxford Street to the National Art School, for their current exhibition Sixth Sense. It’s such a great exhibition, with so many works made up of things that “smell”. As you enter on the lower level, there’s some fragrances in bottles and some of those smelling cards (sorry, I don’t know the word, but those cards like you would find in a cosmetics store) with fragrances which include freshly sharpened pencils! Upstairs, there are other wonderful works which are made from herbs, chillies, and even ashes. Definitely worth visiting.
Sixth Sense exhibition at National Art School, Sydney
Sixth Sense exhibition at National Art School, Sydney
John Fries Award 2016
John Fries Award 2016
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One Comment
The silence when you first get home is nothing unusual. I think its about letting the brain finish processing everything from the day and provide a buffer between work and life. So often you’ll still be thinking about work late in the evening without that break in the thought process. I like to think of it as a switch – it just takes some time to flick the switch though.
The silence when you first get home is nothing unusual. I think its about letting the brain finish processing everything from the day and provide a buffer between work and life. So often you’ll still be thinking about work late in the evening without that break in the thought process. I like to think of it as a switch – it just takes some time to flick the switch though.