down south!

a couple of weeks ago i went away down south with my gentleman-friend "ben." now that life is full of pre-christmas frenzy on both the work and home fronts, and i'm suffering from that old conundrum of "too much stuff argh! too little time argh!", i find it soothing to return to the memories of this trip.

i understand that my conception of "the country" is extremely limited. i realise that my experience of "the country" extends only as far as the tourist trail. my vision of small town life eerily echoes the representation of pearl bay in seachange. i have had the privilege of staying only in charming, log-fired cottages - never in an actual farm house or (arrgh arrgh no!) a caravan! further, what i mean when i say "country" is "south-western wa" where big trees reach upwards and crowd the sky and it's all about idyllic clear water. i'm not actually referring to dusty shacks in the middle of the nullabor, or large cattle droving plains as featured in that "quintessentially australian film," australia.

nonetheless though, i like to think there's a core of something... real? in amongst all that mediated experience. whenever i begin to doubt that, i like to remember the story of our good friend mary-rose from denmark, who went away to ireland for three months and did not even bother to lock her front door. "what's going to happen?" i remember her asking, "there's no one around here that i don't know and trust!" the moment she said these words, i drafted a mental plan to move to denmark after i finished uni. i was going to buy a little forest-surrounded "studio," despite the fact that i actually did not really know what a "studio" was (i was 10 at the time, and it sounded so romantic; all paint and books and magazines and pillar candles dripping thick wax over their holders).

times have changed since then, but every time i return to the country, i remember this feeling of dreamy idealism. for me then, being down south is not so much a matter of "time stopping," as it has so often been described, but of time compacting. i remember the delicate feel of every past country moment; staring out over rocks towards the horizon, sitting on wooden verandahs feeding bread crumbs to enthusiastic blue wrens, lying on my back to watch as tall karri trees sway perilously in the wind, listening to pounding didgeridoo music as we coast down scenic roads (my dad describes this music as "exhilarating" and insists on it for all longer drives). and at the same time, there's a feeling of inifinite possibility, of everything that the country has yet to offer me. it's a return to that feeling of a potential country future; i basically can't go down south without remembering my past vision of a forest studio and yearning for it anew, albeit in a modified form.

x magda

---

so, despite the fact that i said i probably would not post my own stuff, i'm going to post a couple of the pictures i took down south. they are nothing special, and probably evoke more within me than they could in anyone else - but still, i'm happy with the use of focus.

"birds: the essence of country?"
(click to enlarge)