Deadline less than one month!!!

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

Don't panic, JFDI.

Di

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 :-)

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.

http://christineaturner.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/dirty-linen-art-space.html

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

Photo-bombing

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.