back on land

So this blog has been a little quiet recently and, as is often the case, my excuse can be presented in three parts: 1) a little blog-related insecurity, which i shall now proceed to push through with a vengeance, 2) a hell of a lot of worky work AND 3) a magical two weeks spent "on the road."



My last five years have all commenced like this, with a journey down south in search of adventure and fun times. Every year about 15 of us squeeze into cars and then into tents and then into bedrooms and we spend almost two weeks basking in one another's company. Inevitably, there are parties (spontaneous AND planned), creative projects (failed AND successful) and beautiful new discoveries (is that actually SASHAAA out there?!). And then at the end I come home feeling refreshed and inspired and happy, ready (if reluctant) to take on the rest of the year.

Here are my TOP FIVE favourite buss09 moments. I would like to be reminded of these if life gets a little hard this year:

1. That morning when Caroline led me over stinger armies and dark seaweeded depths until we reached a mysterious floating trampoline and climbing wall with slide! Lying on my back next to Hannah as Damien bounced beside us, I was struck by surrealness of it all; to be lolling/lol-ing on a trampoline with friends, about fifteen minutes away from the freaking shore.

2. When, feeling tired and hazy one morning, I opened up the refridgerator in search of sustenance, only to find a cold, plastic snake lodged between some cheese and a bowl of leftover pasta.

3. Blasting "Affirmation" at top volume as we rolled down Bussell Hwy, singing along with Jenny, Ro & Caro, and thinking, "I wonder what they're doing in the boy car right now?"

4. Lying on the floor beside my bed after the mess that was the "Under the Sexy Sea" party, with Moriarty (or maybe Sasha?) next to me, and about six other lovable characters in around and on the bed itself, thinking, "Yessss, I may almost be unconscious but at least I am still in amongst PARTY."

5. Arriving back at SouthBound after a quick trip to the beach, and bouncing straight into Architecture in Helsinki, still in bathers and thongs . I cannot even remember what songs AIH played or whether they were actually any good, all I remember is jumping up and down in a spot of space right near the back, and really truly loving life/youth.

x magda

PS i have changed my layout a little! do you like it, or do you hate it?!
damn, html is a bitch!

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

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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)