Well, Rita Walsh has done it again.
Just when we thought the word "congratulations" was starting to become a cliche, Rita's short film, Hugo (which has already won Grand Prize for Fantasy at the Rhode Island Film Festival, won an AWGIE and been selected for Palm Springs) has been selected for the Chicago International Childrens FIlm Festival, which is extremely exciting. Rita is now in Palm Springs and will be greeted with considerable respect when she arrives at Bundanon, where word has spread of her ridiculously heady achievements.
Meanwhile, at Bundanon, the biggest event on our social calendar was last night's "Artists' Drinks" which consisted of some very delicious local wines, some lovely artists and some of the Bunanon peeps (including the person responsible for the excellent Bundanon website, go here). After the drinks, someone decided it would be nice to have an unofficial tour of Arthur Boyd's studio. It's the actual studio he worked in, left completely as it was when he died (his paint-splattered slippers are still under his chair). It was amazing. It was even more amazing because we couldn't find the light switch so the studio tour was done under torch light.
With the lights out, you smell everything much more than you might otherwise. The smell of paints in an art studio are so exciting to me. They speak of possibility. I wish laptops had such an inspiring smell. That way, I might create with a greater fervour. As it is, I sit here in my own studio, with my own view out the window and the laptop in front of me and I discover that other great inspirer: headspace. Having nothing else to do really is such a luxury. Arthur and Yvonne Boyd must have known that. I've had more thinking time than I ever usually would, as well as more writing time, and... I'm allowed to write on the walls! I'm starting to fear what it might be like to return to civilian life.
The best thing in the world is not having to worry about work, or dishes, or having to go and do social things (which are lovely, but which are not an option here, so that distraction doesn't exist!). In fact, here, nobody cares enough to interrupt you. They're all busy doing their own thing. Here is a photo of nobody caring about what I'm doing:
That cow on the right is particularly disinterested.
These guys don't care either:
So really, it's just me with my own mind. Which is being stimulated constantly by views like this:
That's Arhur and Yvonne Boyd's the original owners' Aboriginal stockman's hut (sorry, got that wrong originally). It's teensy weensy. Behind it is Australian bush, featuring about a trillion kangaroos about the size of Wayne Carey, and not dissimilar in appearance. Here is Arthur and Yvonne's house:
There's a tour of the house on Sunday, which I hope to go to. Whenever Sunday might be.
I'm going to try to remember for another reason too. Rita is on radio at 8am Australian time on this station. Of course she is. Captain Famous Pants talks to the peeps. Can't wait to hear it. Go Rita!