I submitted my body to strangers as a canvas to be painted.
She had an open plan living area that welcomed you into her bosom; wrapped arms around you and smelled of the soft scent of acceptance.
Death was in the room, portrayed with astonishing sensitivity, respect and gentleness.
Visiting NIROX was the last day of my five month overseas trip. I’d travelled to discover more of myself and hoped to wrap up the disparate parts of my life in some sort of neat bow. Of course that is not possible but this exhibition themed – ‘Not a Single Story’ – was a perfect ending (or was it just the beginning?!) of my travels inside and out.
Just a pile of stones pfft “What sort of sculpture is that?” I arrogantly thought to myself and walked on unimpressed. But I carried those stones back to NZ with me – figuratively of course. (Can you imagine me getting them through our customs?!) They rattled around inside me, weighed me down until I could ignore their noise no longer and had to dig a little deeper for understanding.
Let me back track and put this in context though…….. Continue reading “NIROX Sculpture Garden – part one”
As kids we grew up in the shadow of the Korean War but were protected from the details
My red shoes (the replacement ones) are no match for mum’s black canvas tackies with their neatly tied laces. The rhythm of her rubber soles racing down the corridor wakes me. I follow to help but am not quick enough off the starting block and when I do eventually run up alongside she refuses to pass the baton. It’s then I realise this is not a team relay but an individual marathon. Continue reading “Following Her Footsteps”
My dad has a thing for bathrooms, not that he spends hours preening himself in them or that he is incontinent, it’s just that he likes tarting them up. And at the youthful age of 88 … Continue reading “Defying his age”
The scenery is picturesque – a wriggling green blanket of grass as if covering a giggle of children. Continue reading “Bursting Cloud 9”