Flashback Friday :: olden day pictures

I was beyond thrilled the year that we finally got to have an "olden day picture" taken at the now out-of-operation Old Sydney Town. Friends had similar pictures hanging on their walls and I thought it was the best thing ever. You can tell by my gawky grin and my Foxtel-dish eyes that I'm pretty excited. My brother Nick, in the front with the fake gun, was just playing it cool. c. 1991.

A brilliant oxymoron

Sorry for the unpostiness! I have been:

a) unwell, followed by
b) excited about Things, followed by
c) trying to catch up on my monthly 20,000-word goal.

In lieu of real words, have this picture instead, taken at Byron Bay last month. Gospel graffiti? It seems like the perfect irony.

Saturday Inspiration #2

Today I stumbled across a delicious blog dedicated to recording the inspirations and delights of the day. Findings are assembled onto daily collage cards. Is this, or is this not a delicious idea?

Record the Day

Making words and toothache, and how they both hurt quite a bit.

Yesterday I pulled out my paints and made a big mess of colours. It was the first time in a long time, and it felt good. Also a little scary. Plus it gave me time to think.

That morning, I'd rather unsuccessfully squeezed out about 750 words (250 short of my daily required quota, if I'm to fulfill my writing pledge for this year, and let's not talk about the fourteen days I've missed writing already this month). Every one of those words was painful. Getting them from brain to fingers to screen felt rather like trying to run a marathon through quicksand. The sludge kept pulling me down.

At lunchtime, I took refuge in a little paperback mystery novel. The supposed powers of distraction only added to my misery. The book was nothing earth-shattering, certainly never destined to be a classic or even a top seller, and yet it was immensely more readable and more real than anything I've ever been able to shake from my pen.

That's an agonising realisation to make, but it was also strangely enlightening. I realised that the reason I've been finding my writing goals so hard to reach is not because it's hard to spew a thousand words onto a page every day (it's not; plus, a thousand words usually takes more than a page, in case you were wondering). Rather, it's painful because it's horrifying to write a thousand bad words a day. Bad writing is painful. Understanding that one is making bad writing is even more painful.

It couldn't have been just coincidence, then, that I read Justine Larbalestier's latest blog post that night. She said:

There’s a certain misery in the air right now. I’m reading it on other writer’s blogs. I’m feeling it myself. Seeing it in tweets. Hearing it in late night conversations in bars. It’s kind of everywhere. So many writers I know, or who I follow on line, or in interviews, are grappling with their own self worth as writers. If I’m not selling am I still a writer? If I can’t get published am I still a writer? If my contract got cancelled am I still a writer? If my next book doesn’t do as well as my last book am I still a writer? If I don’t win awards am I still a writer? If reviewers hate my books am I still a writer?

Obviously, she is speaking particularly to published authors, the people already considered by most of us to be already making good words. But her advice rings true for anyone. It rings true for me:

All you can do is write the very best book you can.
It will get published or it won’t. It will find its market or it won’t. It will sell or it won’t. It will win awards or it won’t. None of that matters if you’ve written the best book you can.

Every act of creativity involves taking a risk. We don't really know that what we're undertaking will turn out lovely and beautiful. Well, maybe Bach had that kind of confidence, but most of us don't. Most of us just jump out into the water and hope we'll remember how to swim. Not even gracefully; we just want to stay afloat.

All I can do is try to write the very best words I can. I might not make something brilliant, but the question at the back of my mind asks, "Will you be able to stop, even if you stink?" The answer is: most likely, no.

I take courage from that phrase about genius (was it Einstein or Edison who said it?): genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. Since genius isn't what I'm aiming for (I gave that hope up long ago), I figure the equation for making something really, really good might be half a percent inspiration and 99 and a half percent perspiration. Inspiration is everywhere; the perspiration bit is up to me.

Two weeks in Tas: People

The penguin in the jumping picture is one of the only things I remember from the Tasmanian holiday our family went on in 1986. It was strangely awesome to get to see that beloved penguin again -- a lot smaller than I'd remembered. Oh, and the picture above is one of they very few with my Dad in it; others usually include him and a sticking-out tongue or similar. Nice.

This is my last post of Tasmanian pictures and -- shout hooray -- my hundredth post here. Throw some confetti!

Fabulous, dahling.

Rachael calls my blog a fabulous one -- daaahlings, I'm so honoured!

And since so many of you have been passing the torch of fabulousness around, I decided to step outside of convention and pick three people whom I don't actually know but whose blogs definitely fit the "fabulous" criteria:

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+ Hula Seventy's blog overflows with colour and beautiful, rich words. I experience a strange reaction when I read it: I'm simultaneously inspired to be a better blogger and to delete my blog and never try blogging again. But seriously. Read this lady's blog. It's gorgeous and a concrete realisation of the word 'creative'.

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+ Blaze Danielle would be cool even if she didn't have such a nifty second name. But as it happens, she is cool and she has a nifty second name. I stumbled across her blog accidentally one day and I keep visiting for more storybook, fairytale goodness. Lovely!

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+ Gluten Free Girl Shauna Ahern writes about food as though she is crafting a novel, each word beautifully selected to make the reader salivate. Her photography is amazing, plus: she is married to a chef.

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Know any awesome blogs I really should be reading? Do tell me.

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(And now excuse me while I go and eat Madras lentils and steaming rice while I listen to a black storm rage outside. Mondays don't get any better than this.)

At the end of a lovely weekend...

just an observation, originally uploaded by keri.

This is more true than I care to admit. Oh, how I love the cosiness of my comfort zone!

(with thanks to artist and writer Keri Smith for pointing out the painful truth)

Saturday Inspiration #1

This is blogging, picture-making, and story telling genius. I'm so inspired:

Maira Kalman's And the Pursuit of Happiness blog.

PS. From now on I'll be answering comments in the comments section, like the rest of society. So if you ask a question and need the answer, it'll be there.

Let's talk about nudity.

(I bet that got your attention).

Today on the Boundless blog, Ted Slater asks about nudity in visual art such as illustration and film: "When and how is it appropriate to include nudity... in various forms of art?"

It's a good question because it brings into focus two distinct arguments: that God made the human body as the marvellous crowning glory of His creation (see Psalm 139:13-16), and that the naked body has a particularly remarkable effect on many of those who view it.

The naked body has been portrayed -- and revered -- in visual art since there was art to be made. This doesn't offer an exception to Christians pondering the appropriateness of nudity in art; it simply shows us how deeply flows the belief in the value and necessity of the nude form in art.

There are, however, exceptions to most rules. In this case, married couples are, of course, given the freedom to look on each others' nakedness, and a male doctor might be required to tend a female patient. That same doctor will also likely have studied detailed depictions of anatomy in the course of his education, which I think provides a clear example of when nudity in art is appropriate and when it is not.

All art is created for a reason, even if the reason is so basic as a guiding compulsion to create, or for the sheer joy of making something. But art also invokes a response, and I think it is this reason and response which provides the best guideline for the appropriateness of the portrayal of nudity. What is the underlying reason behind the portrayal of a naked woman in a painting? What is the response of the viewer?

It is impossible to deny that humans -- particularly men -- struggle with lust provoked by visual stimulation. Is it ever right for us to create a piece of art that could add to that struggle? To say that someone's struggle over sin is their own battle to fight is not enough. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we are obligated and privileged to help one another, to "spur one another on to love and good deeds." And our role as disciples goes beyond simply helping: we are called to avoid doing anything -- even unintentionally -- that could cause someone else to stumble.

Jesus said, But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea (Matt. 18:6).

Being exempt from similar struggles ourselves -- or being firmly convinced of the beauty and loveliness of the human form -- does not excuse us from meeting our obligations to our fellow believers. The following Scripture relates specifically to food; if we substitute the word "art" in its place, we are offered a challenging insight into our role as creators of art:

Do not, for the sake of [art], destroy the work of God. Everything is indeed clean, but it is wrong for anyone to make another stumble by what he [views] (Romans 14:20).

There will be nudity in art as long as there is art. But should Christians be creating visual art which includes portrayals of nudity and sexual images? These Scriptures convince me that the answer is no.

But what's your take? (You can disagree if you want; it keeps us all on our toes!)

It's Friday -- yay!

What's the coolest thing you've seen this week? I think this is mine. Amazing.

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conversations:

Carla -- You're so encouraging :).

Mum -- It's beautiful! And you are a Nut-Climbing Champion. ;)

Two weeks in Tas: Nature

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conversations:

Melody -- so glad you enjoyed them! Tasmania affords so many opportunities for beautiful picture-taking; only this time I confess I did much more reading than photography, thus the mediocre shots of some amazing places.

Carla -- I'll visit and catch up! ;)

Two weeks in Tas: Architecture

Honestly, I think it takes a while to re-enter the atmosphere of the real world after a two-holiday. That's certainly been the case for me; it's been hard to settle down to normal life again. Hard to settle down to the good, important, and necessary stuff, I mean -- and all too easy to let go of the other good things gained: the inspiration, the refreshment, the new ideas, the hope of possibility.

Happily, looking at these pictures of Tasmanian architecture inspires me all over again:

[the view from the balcony of our apartment]

[the clock tower that chimed every quarter of the hour;
my brother's counting improved greatly just by listening to this]

[one of the fountains in City Park, Launceston]

[glorious old homes]

[more old home deliciousness. The roses!]

[the mysterious Spiky Bridge; no one knows quite why it was built so]

Coming soon to a blog near you: Tasmanian nature. Yum.

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conversations:

Caitlin -- my pleasure! It was fun sending those postcards back off to the mainland :).

Carla -- I STILL miss you! I must catch up on your blogging ;).

Staish -- I know you will appreciate the fine art of picture posing.

Hi there!

I'm back from Tasmania -- and, apparently, posting pictures of myself that would be better left buried. Real pictures to come.

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conversations:

Meaghan -- School holidays are not too far away!! (I think New York beats Tasmania).

Staish -- we missed you, too. Like heaps.

Rachael -- wow; thank you! I'm honoured!