Sculptures by the Sea - 2014

It's hard to believe that this year was the 10th anniversary of Sculptures by the Sea, an annual event in which wonderful, though-provoking and (lets be honest) sometimes just plain weird sculptures created from a range of materials and displayed prominently in and around the landscape of Cottesloe Beach.

Visiting with Mum, we arrived in the last few hours of the afternoon and stayed past sunset, delighting to watch the sun's dying rays play on the shapes at hand.
We didn't get the guidebook, so many of the interpretations are personal opinion and the explanations just me bullshitting about the symbolism of modern art.

Because giant bugs are just plain cool... particularly when painted so vividly. On one branch hung a red loveheart so spectators could climb into the tree to be bugs themselves or pictorially express their love of the creepy crawlies. 

A hut of 'coral' constructed from crocheted plastic bags. 

Looking at this artwork now, it reminds me of the tasks assigned to those condemned to Tartarus in Greek Mythology. Perhaps an Asian take on the uphill struggle?

Radiating dogs?
Radiating pussy cats would be more appropriate if you knew. What with their ability to cast shadows when most undesired, ability to absorb heat and light to create more heat and sound.
But then, I've never been much of a fan of the yappy species.

Perhaps the most attention-seeking sculpture this year was the gigantic goon bag swaying in the breeze. Within days of its unveiling it was lorded in a meme as the Western Australian-defining sculpture that would address Lisa Scaffidi, Lord Mayor of Perth's checklist for the next iconic WA sculpture.

Don't know, truthfully it didn't really inspire any questions or strong emotions, though latter in the evening it was utilised by a bridal party for their photos.

This one reminded me of one of those bend pencils we used to get so excited to own in primary school. Even the colour was reminiscent.


















A darling friend only recently learn about swimming between the flags.
I hope this doesn't confuse her.

Personally, I like the way the seagulls decided to enhance the artwork themselves. 

Perhaps a memorial to the surfers and swimmers attacked by sharks off Cottesloe Beach. The random layout reminded me of the historical graveyards of Europe. It is off this beach that the controversial shark net has been set up, and it was here that my sister celebrated an early birthday, the day before a surfer was fatally attacked by a shark whilst out swimming before the lifeguards and patrol came on duty.

Who doesn't like blonde, blue-eyed, big busted surfie chicks tanning themselves in the afternoon sun, their backs bare of bikini straps to ensure an even tan? 

This scultpure probably ranked third in popularity after the goon bag and the wave of blond bimbos. While I liked the simplicity of the converging threads, it was otherwise unexciting as if it was trying to mimic the radiance of the setting sun it didn't come anywhere close.

Moving on...

 

While I'm happy to head down to the beach to see these sculptures, I'll admit I got much more pleasure out of an earlier trip just to watch the sun set and frolic in the waves before losing our hearing to the chorus of rainbow lorikeets wishing each other good night. 

Nature is much more beautiful than much of what we can create.

As darkness fell and we trekked back to the car, previously undiscovered pieces of arts shone out of the darkness.

Unfortunately we were too full from dinner for icecream by now. 

With the going down of the sun

I'm a West Australian, born and bred and yet I'll admit, this is not a view I see nearly as often as I should.

Don't get me wrong, I love the sunset and frequently catch some of it, at varying levels of visibility, but it is rather infrequent that I will actually wander down to the beach and catch it in all its glory.

Friday evening was one such evening. N suggested we go out as opposed to staying in and as that naturally precluded anywhere with loud music and potential dancing, we decided on the beach.
Her condition was that we pop by and visit some friends already scheduled to be at the beach.
My condition was that we got there in time for the sunset. A big ask as N is notorious for always running late.

The drive up from Fremantle follows the coast and so for 15 minutes N was staring out the window watching the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, hoping that she hadn't caused us to miss it, or that I'd suddenly swerve off the road and pull out my camera, all the while berating her for running late... again.
However we made it.



Cottesloe Beach is usually too popular a beach for my liking, but on this occasion it was beautiful.

Scores of people were enjoying the refreshing water and the sun's final rays silhouetted their actions, those of two groups of rowers and the replica 'bell' that stands tall in the waters off the coast.

Upon arrival, I made a beeline for the water's edge, all the time stopping and sinking into the sand to take more photos, while N skirted around the seagull footprints and stood tentatively at the tidal mark suspiciously eyeing the advancing waves.

There wasn't a fanfare of colours this evening, as the cloud cover was relatively sparse and though N insisted on me keeping my eyes open, we didn't see the green flash as the sun sank below the horizon. I was asked when exactly sunset was so N knew when to look hardest, but not having my own personal 'guy who likes the sky' (Thank you Claire) nearby to ask, and feeling unequal to answering accurately we just enjoyed the view and the feel of unexpectedly wet fabric against our skin.

With the sun having sunk below the horizon, we directed our footsteps towards the grassy area under the patch of pine trees in the branches of which a host of rainbow lorikeets had  unexpectedly landed and were settling down for the night... after asking each other how their day was, who they'd seen, where they'd been, what their family was up to before wishing each and every one good night and finally settling down for the night.

With that, we also decided it was time to head home, for a meal and the chance to settle down in front of an old RomCom. But not before one last look at the painted sky.

We are indeed blessed to be able to enjoy such spectacular views.

Natural History Museum - London

I want to introduce you to one of the museums in London. A very specific one that occupies pride of place on Cromwell Road.
It's not the Victoria and Albert, London's exhibitor of historical fashion.
It's the other one.
The Natural History Museum.



I assure you, its not just anyone I drag to this museum, (one of) my favourites in London. Though I do ensure it takes its rightful place on the 'must see in London' lists of many of my family and friends. However the reason for this, is not the result of the museum's content alone. It is the building itself that holds my gaze the longest.

Review: Flushed

The second play from Maddy Bell, Flushed is a roaring delight and if this is even a glimmer of her capabilities, I can't wait to see what she offers up next.

Trapped at the funeral of their grandmother, held at their old school, cousins Ronnie and Steph are dreading the fact that they have to perform and then mingle with the family, and be nice into the bargain. As a result, they've barricaded themselves in the Ladies Loo and need extricating with tact, blackmail or family obligation, or a healthy dose of all three. Sheltering in the toilets, the girls spend their time reminiscing about their childhood together, comparing family gossip and musing over their own desires and secrets.

Unlike Bell's previous play, Hello Boys, I am pleased to report that the characters in Flushed do not feel to be mere stereotypes portraying the black and white of the dating scene, but display a chemistry and understanding that makes it believable that Steph and Ronnie are the very best of cousins and well aware of each's potential to get them both in and/or out of a number of hilarious predicaments. For anyone who has grown up with a close childhood friend, be they sibling, cousin, school friend or neighbour, Flushed captures beautifully the nostalgia of one's own childhood memories and the pain in realising that you may be drifting apart, each absorbed in your own life. Both girls hole up in the bathroom, remembering with mortification (and amusement) past misdemeanors, and share with the audience their crippling doubts and the heavy burden of trying to live up to the family's expectations.

This is a far more 'feminist' piece than Bell's previous play, but as one audience member was overheard to say, it is only viewed as feminist because it is a play written by a woman, about women, acted out by women. That does not mean though that it does not delve into issues we are all prone to feel, regardless of our sex, gender, age or ethnicity, or tell stories in which men are not equally a part. It is just that on this occasion, these stories are being told purely from a female view point. Flushed is a homage to the fairer sex and the undeniable way grandmothers delight in everything their grandchildren do, all the while retaining the ability to shock this modern generation.

Be warned, this is not a play full of potty jokes. This is a play about what women get up to when they disappear to the Ladies Loo (and feel no inclination to come out).

You may never view the Ladies Loo in quite the same way again.