The mountain gods know it is time. Hush they say, listen to your heartbeat. Be ready for anything, sing the goddesses, we are here for you. Somewhere between light of dawn and glow of dusk lies the present. The forest beckons. Wild yourself whispers the bleached bones on my path. A feather falls, ever so lightly. I shiver in anticipation.
Our Elgin Marbles come home (the marbles of the Parthenon). Only for a moment. These treasures of aboriginal cultural, sacred objects, will be shipped to the British Museum. Again. The first people of Australia have no say in this. Again.
These objects were stolen, along with the land we now call home. Yes, a Treaty was never signed. If there had been one, would the men and women whose ancestors walked the land for 60,00 years have understood its consequences?
We are almost tripping over the anniversary of that fateful date, January 26, when the nation officially celebrates Australia Day. Many of us now know it as Invasion Day, the day when 11 ships arrived in Sydney in 1788. Others prefer to call it Survival Day.
Wiradjuri woman, Mayrah Sonter explained,
“It’s a tricky day. We don’t celebrate ‘Australia Day’ today. We celebrate the survival of our people. It was the beginning of the end of a lot of Aboriginal culture and people. There were lives lost. Our culture has not been able to fully recover from the things that have happened.”
‘In 2003, Murray and Gary Foley, the Victorian scholar, author and activist, hatched a plan to seize the barks when they were loaned by the British Museum to the Melbourne Museum to mark the Australian institution’s 150th birthday.
The pair convinced a court to use a little-known provision of the National Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Act to secure the artefacts. Faced with pressure from the British and legal action from Melbourne Museum, the clan lost the case, but they found a friend in the Greek community, which is lobbying for the return of its Elgin Marbles.
“Our view has never changed. We want them home,” says Murray.’
The National Museum in Canberra is hosting an exhibition of 150 beautiful, hand-crafted spears, shields, necklaces and personal objects from the British Museum. They are here until March 28 and then the British take them away. Again.
Thanks to The Sydney Morning Herald and SBS for the quotes. You can read more: http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/encounters-at-national-museum-of-australia-our-elgin-marbles-come-home-20151104-gkp0nv.html#ixzz3y19V7IB1
http://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/2015/01/26/survival-day-marked-across-australia
She was almost full
stalking the bush
casting long shadows
into the darkest recesses
of my mind
we stopped
and lay down on the litter
of warm damp life
the forest floor
soft against my back
your voice wandered
like my thoughts
to the sea
your hands still
like the air
your breath taking me
to another time
inhale
exhale
These are details from a painting that is about to be transformed into something else. A sign of impermanence. An offering of optimism.
.
I want to draw
the sweet sounds
that fall from your fingertips.
The pauses between.
Harmony.
The fall of your hair,
an echo of the Mulberry tree.
Your legs tangled,
sweet skin.
Toes playing
at the bottom of the chair.
Such mellow moments
like nectar in my mouth.
I have been working on this painting for a while now. It grew quickly, after the adrenaline rush of an evening’s life drawing, then stagnated on my wall for almost a year. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted but left it to gather dust. Passing glances told me that it was incomplete… but this stayed unresolved. A few weeks ago I reworked the face, creating a bland something that resembled a mass market greeting card. I fled for the coast, sun-filled days and friends calling.
I’m back in the city now, flying with new year energy. I threw myself at the canvas today and reworked the lot, knowing, simply knowing, that it was time!
‘The gift of unspeakable Love’, Oil on Canvas, 60cm x 60cm
© Jeni McMillan 2016
Often I am moved to poetry by the words and images of geo.kalpataru. A spontaneous eruption across time and space…
how can it be otherwise?
that lives and loves
crash on many shores
and break in tenderness
and rage in passion
and sleep in silence
dreaming dreaming dreaming
of birth death and rebirth
again and again and again.
Thank you, geo.
What will i do today?
From the comfort of my first world.
Food and abundant sunshine,
possibilities laughing through the double-glazed window.
What do i want?
And where do i go?
With romantic notions dancing on my screen-time.
How can i survive?
the confusion and guilt of having enough.
Being a unicorn in a shattered world,
A sunflower in a field of mud.
What will i do today?
From the comfort of my first world.
Sharp cliffs rolling
into the pounding, drowning
magnificent swell.
Wind tugging at my hair.
Feet firmly planted
against the edge
of Hell’s Jaws.
Biting gusts turning
my flesh into one bony carcass
perched at the abyss.
And beating on my careful spine …
the relentless sun.
Drawing, dreaming,writing, reading poetry (I highly recommend Mary Oliver), sharing a hammock with loved friends, massage swaps, cooking, feeding masses of beautiful people, swimming, playing… I have been to heaven and back!
Have a beautiful New Year, sun worshippers, wind warriors, and joyous beings … all of you special and creative friends.
Jeni McMillan 