LOVEABLE: FEBRUARY THINGS


Things I loved in the past far-too-short month:
Melbourne finally having a few summer days Δ playing banjo, still, maybe forever Δ Dexter reruns Δ Lester Bangs and Ken Kesey biographies Δ camping under the stars in the Murray River borderlands Δ this Watershot housing for taking photos of Humble trying to swim Δ daylight savings evening swims Δ these Souvenir Sabbath jewels Δ quitting commission work to focus on personal projects Δ hungover foodtruck dinners in the park with friends and dogs Δ throwing our first house party in the new place Δ wild rice and mushroom soup Δ collecting wild everlastings and cockatoo feathers Δ Loving Hut vegan food Δ Pretty in Pink/any John Hughes films Δ drinking games around the campfire Δ Jeffrey Eugenides Δ finally purchasing this Flynn Skye Eterie maxi Δ and the work of Australia artist Rachel Newling -- I'm a sucker for a beautifully drawn osprey Δ

WANDERING: BELGIUM TO SWEDEN

We landed in Brussels half-delirious and totally over it … the 30-hour long-haul flight from Australia was replete with all the usual horrors: loudly airsick person across the aisle, hysterically crying child a few rows back, water doled out in tiny drink bottles begetting perpetual thirst, weak sleeping pills, weird food options, bad rom-coms …
But looking out the window on the way down and seeing all the funny neat houses with their austere-middle-management-type architecture, all the green fields and white wind turbines, all the crisp early light, was a new kind of radical. That’s fucking Belgium down there! We’re going to be in this place, the opposite side of the world, where we don’t know anything, and hardly anyone.
It was probably seven or eight in the morning by this time, and we were met by two friends in a turquoise-green van, papered with DIY skate company stickers and harbouring a case of warm Jupiler tins. This van – along with another of the same make and model, only red, and with a better built-in fridge – would be our home for the next week, as our gang of eight drove from Antwerp to Malmo, questing for skate parks, sunny days and strong beer.
All of which is a fun idea until you’ve built up five days’ worth of hangovers, food poisoning and skating sweat without any showers.
But whatever, the highlights were things like …

ANTWERP

Antwerp was one of my favourite cities on our whole trip – the first place we went into was a shop with skulls and urchins, but I didn’t buy any because I still had to pass customs in five or six more countries. And the last place we went into was essentially a beer café. I have never drunk so much beer in my life. I also didn’t drink beer again for the rest of the trip, and probably not for another three months once we were back in Australia.  

DOEL
Doel is an abandoned town/doomed city in East Flanders. It’s supposed to be demolished en masse to expand Antwerp’s harbour. But it’s got this beautiful thing happening where colourful street art is climbing the walls of all the empty houses and shops like rough Ironlak ivy. There was also Roa artwork and a windmill, all of which I was impressed by. And no venomous snakes or spiders in any of the overgrown houses (natural Australian instincts were in overdrive).

ON THE ROAD
Things like driving on the Autobahn, spotting deer and buzzards, keeping an eye out for wolves, collecting wild poppies and acorns in a vacant lot, photographing nature collections, finding the odd jellyfish, the best spiced whiskey I've ever had (can someone in Europe send me a box of William Lawson Super Spiced Whiskey?) …

GERMANY
The DIY camp in Hannover, Germany gave me a taste for year-round Christmas decorations in outdoor trees, as well as fortresses made of pallets, fake plants, and plastic jewels.
Hamburg was colourful, dirty, scary and cool – we parked the vans in the parking lot, got drunk and barbecued bratwurst … I probably laughed the hardest I’ve ever laughed in that city. I was also the second-most scared I’ve ever been when I was trying to sleep in the van while a homeless man circled outside, muttering and yelling into the night. And in German, no less.   

COPENHAGEN/CHRISTIANIA
In Copenhagen we slept in the vans on the outskirts of Christiania, a ‘free town’ that to my Australian mind was just completely incomprehensible. And before we slept, we trekked out to a little beach on the shore of Christiania’s lake – past beautiful handmade houses and strange rambling constructions – built a fire and drank beers and laughed until the early hours.

SWEDEN
There was a festival in Malmo, Sweden, when we got there – we caught the end of a Graveyard set, ate burritos and drank Coronas, somewhat culturally inexplicably. We walked for miles through the rain to some scary-loose pub to find two ex-pat Australians, who would lead us through the city and the bars and eventually get us so dead-lost we ended up on the grounds of what was possibly a mental hospital, carrying a cardboard cut-out clown, all arguing about how to get back to the hostel. I also remember laughing a lot playing a weird board game in a pub in Malmo – I think it was called Caromse or something, going by the drunken scrawling in my notebook.


And after all that, we waved to the guys in the vans at Copenhagen airport and turned our sights to Iceland … with the hope of a big of rehab and rest, and whatever the strangest place in the world had in store for us. 

GOOD TIMES


Lately I’ve been drawing cats and lobsters, seahorses and skulls; I’ve been camping on strange riverbanks and staring at the stars, reading in the shade and practicing the banjo.
Good times indeed.

Also, there’s 25 per cent off everything in my online store here, using the code PRINTSALE at the checkout. 

SKETCHBOOK: EFFICIENCY

For the past four or five days, I've been feeling efficient. On top of things. Cool/calm/collected. 
Everything seems to be running smoothly: deadlines are being met, projects are being completed. Even the paperwork and financials are being seen to. 

Naturally, I feel suspicious. 
This is not the usual way of things. 
I'm sure that any minute now I'm going to uncover a to-do list of twenty missed deadlines, seven abandoned projects begging to be finished, four crucial emails that remain unwritten, and some kind of convoluted, time-consuming exercise plan for my dog. 

Oh well, I'll just enjoy it for now. 

LOVEABLE: JANUARY THINGS


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Vintage turquoise necklaces, Asos shirt, rings: vintage and Rejoice the Hands.

Things I loved in January:
Fireworks from rooftops Δ quitting drinking for a month Δ driving lost through bushland listening to Alabama Shakes Δ surprising a wedge-tail eagle drinking from a roadside pond Δ new soles on my Harley boots Δ more Millie Savage silver Δ finding new local florists vs. stealing flowers from gardens and roadsides Δ Tom Robbins autobiography (Tibetan Peach Pie) Δ this cute Lykke Wullf shirt Δ forcing Weenie Mutt to swim in icy southern waters on 40°C days Δ ginger ale (sans whiskey) Δ banjo playing and my black Tanglewood beauty Δ painting native Australian birds and plants in vibrant colours Δ re-watching Arrested Development episodes Δ these coconut goods Δ B52s and Jackson Five Δ long floral 90s dresses with chunky boots and Harley tees Δ crisp summer mornings in southern Australia Δ new Three Arrows Leather goods made of the softest magical leather Δ daydreaming up plans for our future home of wood and glass and solar and plants …



SUMMER MISCHIEF


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Volcom 'Granada' bikini; Reef sun products; necklaces: Ishka, Spellbox, Quick Brown Fox, vintage; rings: Rejoice the Hands, Coyote Negro, Millie Savage Silver, Lo and Chlo Jewelry, vintage; Keith Haring book.


My sister and I used to skip classes during the summer months – this was once I was a bit older and we got along OK, and she had her P-plater licence and would sometimes drive my dad’s truck to school.
She would drive us out to the nearest beach town; just not the one with the bay, not the one with the easy, gentle white sand dunes. We’d go to the one where you had to clamber down the rocks and it wasn’t so good for swimming, where people parked their cars on the headland, and where you couldn’t see who was on the beach from the carpark.
I don’t know about my sister, but I was always nervous on the drive out there. We lived in a tiny valley, and it was just as likely we’d run into someone who knew our parents and would dob us in. But once we were down the rocks we were safe and hidden. Never mind that our dad’s truck – parked alone in the headland carpark – was instantly recognisable to anyone who knew him. It was, and still is, I suppose, the kind of town where you know everyone else’s number plates.

But that was our summer mischief. We’d spend the afternoon swimming and lying in the sun, talking and occasionally flicking through study notes so we didn’t feel so bad about skipping classes. Because that’s the kind of badasses we were – lucky ones, beachside skipping school with study-guilt. 

A DAY TO REMEMBER


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Today in Melbourne it is kinda cold and drizzly, and I'm sticking to my challenge of not drinking for the month of January. So today I'm finding myself even more out of step with our national holiday than usual. 

For those of you not attuned to Antipodean goings-on, today is Australia Day. This is an occasion usually marked with standard ocker practices like drinking beer, hitting the beach, frying in the sun, being enthusiastic about cricket/tennis/whatever, and barbecuing some stuff while listening to the wireless (radio, that is). 

It's also slightly troublesome because it celebrates the day white people landed on the continent, which, for our country's Indigenous people, doesn't mark the happy anniversary of our country's foundation, but is actually the starting point of decades of genocide, racism, dislocation, and attacks on their ancient and enduring civilisation. 

As a beneficiary of our country's sad history -- i.e., if not for white settlement in Australia, I'd probably be anywhere in Scotland, Ireland or Germany -- I'm in two minds about this day. I'd like to celebrate this incredible land that we are so, so lucky to live on, but perhaps not today. Not if demonstrating our love for this country comes at the expense of respect for the traditional inhabitants, who themselves understand and love her much more than we ever could, and who today have every right to mourn.  

So, today I'm going to stay inside and draw some more, I'll think about all the things I love -- from gum blossoms to weird birds, wide skies to wild oceans, horse dust to Akubras, VB tins to seventies-era Holdens -- and remember at just what cost I get to love those things. 


SKETCHBOOK: STUDIES


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Having a relatively short attention span when it comes to ideas and preoccupations, I rarely draw 'studies' for paintings. I'm never really that well prepared, and am usually just hoping things will turn out OK. Mostly, the image is making a kind of faith-based jump from my mind to the page. 
And, unsurprisingly, it rarely turns out how I'd initially hoped it would. 

So I'm trying to form a habit of working on studies; familiarising myself with what I'm trying to produce. Here's a couple from the weekend, which, as so often happens, just deteriorated into me painting gum blossoms. 

Also, a time-lapse video of me drawing is up on the Volcom blog here. 


ON THE WAY


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Rings by Rejoice the Hands, Coyote Negro and Southset (now Of Earth and Stars); Volcom pants; Jo Mercer shoes; Cait Miers Washed Elegance photo book. 

So, I acquired three really excellent things last week – a car, a banjo, and my Harley boots back from the re-solers – but I have none of them actually here. To wit, the banjo is en route from the supplier, the car is back at the farm approximately 2000km away, and I had to take my boots back to the shop because the glue didn’t take properly in one spot.

These kind of occurrences are totally indicative of my life in general … happy – occasionally disappointing and frustrating – but mostly happy, and forever in anticipation of something good in the works, which isn’t quite here yet. 

ALSO, there was one more excellent arrival in my life last week ...
When we were moving house last year, we found a weird, tentacle-y, potted succulent in our backyard, hidden under a bush. As with anything vaguely interesting that I stumble across, I took it with me.
Then last week it sent out some unusual looking shoots, and I started to second-guess my assessment of it as a benign alien-plant.
It was up to something. 
But, as it turns out, it was just flowering; producing one perfect, five-petaled bloom. I've been told it's a carrion flower -- Stapelia -- which is kind of gross, but the stink is definitely outweighed by the weirdness and beauty. 

SKETCHBOOK: HELL'S GATE AND PARADISE


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Sketchbook pages December 24 - January 4, vintage necklaces and dress (underneath sketchbooks), rings from Coyote Negro and Rejoice the Hands.

Right now I'm feeling a little put off by everyone starting the new year with great health-and-fitness plans and super-new-work-ethics and every kind of world-dominating resolve that comes with a two-week break mostly fuelled by alcohol and too much food. 
Because all I'm starting the year with is some kind of throat/chest infection and I've spent the last three days sleeping/whingeing/watching bad TV shows.

So I'm just hoping that that old new year's adage -- that how you spend the first day of the year is a portent for how the rest of the year will be -- is totally untrue (although, if it were true, wouldn't most people just be hungover all year, which … well, never mind). 

Anyway, I'm not one for new year's resolutions -- or even life goals for that matter. My plan is, as usual, to stick to working hard and see where that takes me. Last year, at least, it took me some pretty interesting and memorable places. 

The only thing I'm highlighting as a possible resolution is to take better care of my health, and to stop pushing myself to burnout. Last year was probably the worst year of sickness and collapsing immunity that I've ever had. It was also the year that I pushed myself the hardest and probably also drank too much, too often. So that's my one thing this year, to try and circumvent that kind of behaviour.

Oh, and I'm buying a banjo. That was one of last year's resolutions, but, whatever. 
When it comes to banjos, I feel like any time is a good time.