Yesterday I suffered from a rush of blood to the head. I have beeb thinking and absorbing my workshop in Ballarat with Beverly Ayling Smith, thinking about memory and truth, and working on some ideas and research. Very slow and very frustrating.
Suddenly I rushed into my bin of solid coloured cotton fabrics and ironed and cut and stitched strips into stripes.
I found a range of glorious colours in lights and darks and made a series of striped fabrics ready to make post and rail blocks.
I was quite excited and looked at Maria Shell's work. I love her colour palette and what she does with small pieces of fabric.
By the end of the day I am thinking what am I doing and in the evening I read my colour workbook and got excited.
And then most of the night I thought about the direction of my work - what am I really doing? And today I have my beautiful pieces of 4 X 4 ins sheeting painted with bitumous paint, sanded, stitched and painted with emulsion out. They are the beginnings of a piece called "Sticks and Stones"
They are all torn 4 X 4 in pieces, and are intended to be a series of units that will make up a whole. They are hand size and reflect the intimacies and hurts in life.
By now I am wondering about my coloured pieces. I still love them. They are sort of a detour. What do I do with these detours? Just get more petrol? Get rid of the coloured cloth? Decide on my focus and get rid of everything else?
What do you do when you have a rush of blood to the head? Do you even have them?
I haven't been to Lake Ferry since the 8 January, a month ago in fact. The weather has been so hot and with the black "sand" I am sure it gets very hot close to the ground. The last time I went MM took off back to the car as soon as I looked like returning and waited in the shade under a ute.
So going today I was really interested to see what had happened to the beach.
As I drive down towards the car park I can see white capes on Lake Onoke and then when I get out of the car the sea is big and the wind is strong. I haven't seen it like this for a long time. Taking off my shoes and putting on my gumboots and staying upright is a bit of a mission.
The wind is blowing from the south onto the beach and pushing the rising tide through the cut and into the lake.
When I walk down to the beach I look across the cutting to Onoke Spit and see the water rushing along the side of the spit and cutting into the sand.
As I walk closer to the beach, the sea gets louder and the waves batter against each other like drunk fighters in a bar room brawl.
Down by the sea the wind batters my ears and I can image that my ears are heavy cloth sails flapping against my head. Suddenly I nearly lose my hat.
Further along the beach I watch the patterns and lines made by the sea as the waves throw themselves against the shore and rush up the beach and then retreat.
Then I remember I had brought some of my pots from the sawdust kiln to photograph among the grey gravel/sand of the beach. So I head for the middle section of the beach where the driftwood is dumped by the tides.
When I made these containers I was mindful of the colours at Lake Ferry and then so excited when I emptied the kiln. I think I will get a selfie stick to see if I can photograph closer to the ground. Getting down and lying on the sand could be maybe a goal. All my pinch bowls just show the upper surface but there are some lovely patterns and marks on the sides.
Debbie Lyddon always photographs her finished work in the relevant environment and this was something I learnt at her workshop in Switzerland. We all took our work down into the paddocks that had inspired it and photographed it there.
When I get back to the car I collect my plastic milk bottle and take it down to Lake Onoke to collect some water to take home to do some dyeing with seaweed on silk and maybe linen. As I take the lid of the bottle off, the wind catches in the mouth of the bottle and vibrates. I twist and turn the bottle in the wind and imagine I am part of a sea orchestra.
When I was walking along the beach I found this piece of kelp tied to a length of nylon fishing line. I wondered what it was for - a pretend kite, a pretend fish? What do you imagine it could have been for?