Ok. Here we are at the end of another month. What do I write about today? What would my readers be interested in? Hard to know, so I guess a little of what I’ve been up to lately.
I haven’t been on any trips recently but have enjoyed, in a different way, the beauty of my region. It has been a month of rousing art exhibitions throughout the SALA festival. Art appreciation is such a personal thing. I can delight in the work of many artists but only a handful arrest me – like Renee de Saxe whose solo exhibition in our Barossa Regional Gallery took me to another world – her world of apparitional figures that made me feel as though she was in touch with those on the other side. Haunting. Does she ‘see’ them somewhere in her psyche? Not only does it feel as if she sees them, but this communion with them is palpable . . . . such is the intimacy. Mainly black and white, or sepia, and mostly female, although some figures seem genderless. I walked around and around the space, gripped by the energy, feeling a spirituality. She had subliminal music playing – so quietly I wanted to put my ear to the speakers, and did so, to experience all of what the artist intended. Look her up. She is a humble artist however, and posts little of her work, but what she has will give you some idea.
Renee and her friend Kirsty Kingsley (also a gifted artist) with their husbands have bought a vineyard property on the western reaches of Tanunda. On it is an old farm-house that they have converted into a very classy gallery. They must have worked like Trojans to complete the project in time for SALA. I predict that it will be visited by art enthusiasts from around the world for years to come. It is called WonderGround and is on Heinze Road, Tanunda.
At their inaugural exhibition I fell in love with the work of Tanya Wales. Her paintings are what I might ignorantly call ‘featureless’. But I wondered how a work so plain could give off such powerful energy. It is fascinating to hear how these works were created. It is not only Tanya responsible for them but the paintings themselves! I needed to stop at each one for minutes, to breathe slowly, deeply, to be bathed in their ethereal light, and to feel a warm smile welling up inside of me.
I went to other exhibitions where I walked in, walked around without stopping, and out the door in five minutes. I feel happy that people are applying their skills and putting love into their work, and probably enjoying the camaraderie of fellow artists, but rarely do I come across the profoundness of the two artists I have just spoken of.
I went to an exhibition in an old chapel on the far eastern side of the Barossa. Firstly it was a beautiful sunny day, and we have been in a long, cold, gloomy winter. The countryside was wintergreen and everything was alive with emerging spring. River red gums did their towering, ancient thing while rain-washed, full-wooled sheep grazed the lush pasture. As any of you who regularly read my blogs would know, I prefer the soft spinifex, understated beauty of the Outback. But when I arrived at this chapel – nestled in wooded hills on a country back road – and got out of the car, another wave of something spiritual wrapped around me. An organic mulchy smell of centuries of fallen leaves, a softness underfoot, an utter silence, embellished though with scattered sounds of magpies and the odd bleat of sheep. An old stone farm-house shouldered against the chapel’s land. A chimney breathed out smoke. There were sheds, as farmers build them – with hand-hewn posts, resurrected iron from older fallen down ones. A nineteen forties cob-webby Chevrolet with nowhere to go.
I thought of the pioneers who settled here. What made them pick this place? A view across the rolling hills? Spring-water? It would have been so lonely for the first ones, especially the women. Hmm! Why did I say the women, and not the men. Both were equally busy surviving, eking out a living. We know life was physically hard for them. But did it do them any harm? I think not. They were all lean, wiry and dog-tired at the end of the day.
Other outings for this month – I have a couple of girlfriends I go out with once every two or three weeks. We go out to lunch or dinner and try to pick a different place each time. How blessed we are to have so many restaurants and cafes to choose from. We each appreciate the Barossa food and wines, and the care with which the business owners choose them. Once seated, we look at the menu and take great delight in choosing dishes that we usually can share – to broaden the experience. Each of us enjoys a good red wine – something lighter for lunch, or if its dinner, perhaps something a little more substantial, especially through winter. A bottle of gutsy, character-filled red will arrive at our table after a lively conference over the wine list. And then we talk. Rich talk – about things of The Valley, its growth, world affairs, business, travel, what we’ve each been doing since we saw each other last.
Apart from these out and about things for this month, the staying at home days were made friendly with intermittent reading, listening to music, talking to (long distance) friends on the phone at night. I may have commented on this before, but I have found that since losing my husband, I have found MY voice. It was so weird at first to feel like only half of a whole was left of me, but I have expanded into the other half now. When you have been with a partner for so long, it’s easy to rue the fact that you are now alone, but what I am experiencing is a time to get to know myself. I have a whole new way of coping with things. Or is it that new things are cropping up that I need to rely on myself to deal with. There is an expansion of the self. And dare I say that it is not healthy to rely on others for one’s happiness. Being with others – friends, family, sometimes even strangers, can bring us happiness, but maybe it is ourselves we need to make friends with primarily. I think this is a hackneyed phrase these days but for some of us, its new.
Following on from this train of thought, I have just finished reading the most fabulous book – ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry.’ It is the story of a man’s journey of self-discovery. He walks the length of Britain to see an old flame who is dying of cancer. The journey takes him months and is gruelling. He has time to think and reflect on his life. His regrets are recognised but still not dealt with. He has left his wife wondering where he is. He eventually contacts her and lets her know what he’s doing. Their marriage has been lack-lustre and fraught with guilt and unforgiveness. In the months he is on the road, his wife too has time to contemplate what has gone wrong, and in addressing her regrets, she sees her husband and their relationship in a new light. Harold’s mission is a noble and singular one, but along the way, many people join him for different stints. This spoils the atmosphere we have of the walk. It made me think of how in politics perhaps, one person starts out with a passionate undertaking, driven, perhaps almost super-humanly, by the strength of their convictions, and then others come in to help, and water down the purity, delay the outcome with bureaucracy. I loved this book written exquisitely by Rachel Joyce. Her prosey style suits me down to the ground. Thank you to the person who recommended it.
I was going to put another of my poems up today, but the one I found that said ‘Pick me’ would not be happy in today’s blog. So I may just put it up by itself tomorrow.
So that’s it for today.
Warmly,
Sue
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