Who: Di Wills
What: A play in development
Why: Because the idea wants out of my head and it could be rather funny if done well. Touch wood.

Thursday, 3 January 2013

Deadline less than one month!!!

Exciting times ahead as our supporting art deadline looms closer... 1st Feb 2013.

Don't panic, JFDI.


Saturday, 15 December 2012

Bundy Writer's join the artist team!

Crashed the Writer's club Christmas meeting today (lovely treats and wonderful people) and shared my project concept with them.

Then I passed around pens and post-it's and asked for reflections. The result was fabulous. My friends didn't disappoint and the finished product will be 'note-worthy'. Pun intended. .

Plus we were entertained by a 4-piece ukulele band who were fantastic, enough to inspire me to go buy a ukulele! Hopefully it won't collect as much dust as my tap dancing shoes :-)

Sunday, 25 November 2012

Creative cogs are turning

Have begun inviting artists for the big event. Am blown away by people's creativity. One select lady is thinking about creating a series of fascinators.

Struggling to remove silly grin :-)

Dirty Linen...

Location, location, location.

That's what Christine Turner's art gallery - Dirty Linen Art Space is to me.

The concept for this project came from a lot of places, but settled after walking in the front door as the place to develop and 'germinate' further.

The doors are open Sundays from 10am to 2pm to artists and lovers of art to workshop, talk, chew the fat and share their creative journeys. Poets, painters, crafters, photographers and bloggers have all trudged through the doors in the last few weeks. There's tea, coffee and cake and smiling faces. Go, look, experience.

If you can't make it to the gallery, make it to Christine's blog.


Here's to the Crazy Ones

Here's to the Crazy Ones

Here's to the crazy ones.
The misfits. The rebels.
The troublemakers. The round
pegs in the square holes - the
ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules and
they have no respect for
the status quo. You can praise
them, disagree with them,
quote them, disbelieve them,
glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing that you
can't do is ignore them.
Because they change things.

- Jack Kerouac
quoted in an Apple Computer Ad, 1997


What if no one could see you, except your dead friends? How do you fill your days? There is only so long you can look over your grandchildren, check up on your mortal enemy and making sure your dear husband is either grieving appropriately or moving on - depending on your mood.

You take the time you never did before to really look at yourself. Obviously not literally, you don't have a reflection. But to really take stock of who you are, beyond the roles you filled. If you take away the daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, chef, chauffeur, tutor, mentor, laundromat, you get the idea, what's left?

What did you truly like? What curled your toes, made you smile on the inside, put the sparkle in your eyes?

For one of characters, it was family functions. Weddings, christenings, birthdays, heck even funerals. Which is great, when you can participate. However, how do you spice up the experience when no one can see you, hear you, feel you? Simple - take up photo-bombing.

Lucy, a happy-go-lucky member of the Dead Matron's Society regularly shares with her friends her latest photographic adventures, however today she's worried. Lucy seems to be getting a little too good at having her photo taken, so much so, that she's in the background of someone's Facebook profile photo, taken this morning.

This is the basis of the monologue I am currently working on. Poor Lucy.

Di-gressing, again.

Poetry is not my strong suit. Don't judge the play by these lines below.

The End

It was never about the clothes you wore
Or the way you grew your hair
It was never about the car you drove
That was in serious need of repair
         It was never about your choice of mates
         Or the beer you liked to buy
         It was never about your forgetful way
         That would sometimes make me cry
It was often about the way you snored
Or the way you never cared
It was often about your pretty ex
And how we were always compared
         It was often about the pee on the seat
         Or the clothes left on the floor
         It was often about your pathetic self
         That baby, I can’t take anymore
It’s the reason you found your crap out front
You missed the fire display
It’s the reason your key won’t fit in the locks
I changed them without delay
         It’s the reason I pawned the engagement ring
         That anchor I finally shook
         It’s the reason I’m finally free of you
         Without a backwards look
Goodbye to you my lover
Goodbye to my old friend
Goodbye and good riddance
You Jerk – this is – The End.