Sculpture Vulture
March is Culture Vulture month in this bit of Australia. Sculpture by the Sea is celebrating its 11th year at Cottesloe Beach and finishes tomorrow. I have attended all the previous years so it has become a bit of a tradition.
Some local artists who felt excluded have put together their own show at another beach down the road. Both are beautiful locations and have been on the serpent’s visit list since they first started.
Later in May another beach will host their version of 'sculpture by the sea' which has some very interesting rules. The official title is Castaway and all art works must be made from recycled materials. If ever proof is needed that constraints are conducive to creativity then the Castaway sculptures provide plenty.
These events conveniently coincide with the equinox so the last two days have been the perfect opportunity to drop by at both beaches to drool over the pretty bright shiny things and to indulge in some sunset watching.
Yesterday’s weather was magnificent. It was sunny and breezy and not sticky and muggy like the previous week. Some of the art works had been removed and replaced in anticipation of the storm expected last Saturday and others got delayed in transit. It’s not like I need an excuse to visit the beach. Managed to get there 3 times during the two weeks of the exhibition.
I did notice that the number of works was dramatically down on previous years and there were more than the usual share of pompous monstrosities.
Also there were just not that many art works designed with the beach in mind. Nothing at all in the league of last year’s adorable enormous goon bag whimsically titled “Bulk Carrier”. It was as big as a boat and would have been as much at home floating in the water than stranded on the sand.
With all the pomp and ceremony and total obsession over a certain World War 1 anniversary, I was particularly amused by the rusty brown sniper kangaroo hiding in the hillside vegetation and pointing its rifle down towards the sand. It was not beautiful or elegant by any means but adorably quirky and absolutely perfect for the location.
After watching the sunset and meandering about around the rocks, I then pottered back along the beach on the wet sand to where a line of pretty pink mesh flamingos were strutting their stuff. The waves always seem to sound louder once the sun is gone. Looking towards the sea, the sky quickly became dark and the twinkling stars of Orion soon became visible. In that direction there were no lights, no noise and no people just the waves and water, sky and stars. Got to thinking that was much more beautiful than all the bling on the beach. The old serpent soul had been missing the sound of the waves and the blackness of the sky for so long.
It might be worth making this a Friday ritual since the day job is so conveniently located right next to a train station so within less than an hour I can be at the beach recharging the old grey cells.
Then it was time to board the bus back home. The magic slowly slipped away the nearer I got to the city. But never mind, I could do it all again the next day at a different beach.
It was also beautiful but it was not possible to linger like last night since the last bus to the Lair leaves at 8pm and I would have to catch a connecting one at 7.15pm. (The snail turned up 15 minutes late meaning a whole pile of time spent worrying if I would make the connection which pretty much wiped out much of the good karma collected by the beach)
There were not just sculptures and the Kelp Bar on the beach to provide amusement for visitors. There was also an evening munchies market too and being Fremantle (known for hippies and green feral freaks) there were plenty of vegetarian options.
So in a break from the usual BYO tradition of providing my own nibblies and bottle for a sunset picnic, I got a felafel wrap and a glass of red from the bar and sat at a table outside toasting the sunset.
So now we should have six wonderful months in Winterland where the odds of a 35 degree day are greatly reduced and once again I might get my mojo back.
Apart from sunsets at the beach, the other big Izzie ritual at equinox (and solstice) time is to get out the little green book to write the new batch of 3 month, 1 year and 5 year plans. This also involves checking through the old ones to see what sort of progress I’ve made since the last time. Was I ever so amused to see one wishful thinking item tucked neatly in the June 2013 to June 2018 list - “Visit to Europe”. It felt very strange and spooky ticking off that particular item today and made me very aware of the scary magical powers that such lists can unleash as it is not the first time this has happened. But that is a tale for another day.
Some local artists who felt excluded have put together their own show at another beach down the road. Both are beautiful locations and have been on the serpent’s visit list since they first started.
Later in May another beach will host their version of 'sculpture by the sea' which has some very interesting rules. The official title is Castaway and all art works must be made from recycled materials. If ever proof is needed that constraints are conducive to creativity then the Castaway sculptures provide plenty.
These events conveniently coincide with the equinox so the last two days have been the perfect opportunity to drop by at both beaches to drool over the pretty bright shiny things and to indulge in some sunset watching.
Yesterday’s weather was magnificent. It was sunny and breezy and not sticky and muggy like the previous week. Some of the art works had been removed and replaced in anticipation of the storm expected last Saturday and others got delayed in transit. It’s not like I need an excuse to visit the beach. Managed to get there 3 times during the two weeks of the exhibition.
I did notice that the number of works was dramatically down on previous years and there were more than the usual share of pompous monstrosities.
Also there were just not that many art works designed with the beach in mind. Nothing at all in the league of last year’s adorable enormous goon bag whimsically titled “Bulk Carrier”. It was as big as a boat and would have been as much at home floating in the water than stranded on the sand.
With all the pomp and ceremony and total obsession over a certain World War 1 anniversary, I was particularly amused by the rusty brown sniper kangaroo hiding in the hillside vegetation and pointing its rifle down towards the sand. It was not beautiful or elegant by any means but adorably quirky and absolutely perfect for the location.
After watching the sunset and meandering about around the rocks, I then pottered back along the beach on the wet sand to where a line of pretty pink mesh flamingos were strutting their stuff. The waves always seem to sound louder once the sun is gone. Looking towards the sea, the sky quickly became dark and the twinkling stars of Orion soon became visible. In that direction there were no lights, no noise and no people just the waves and water, sky and stars. Got to thinking that was much more beautiful than all the bling on the beach. The old serpent soul had been missing the sound of the waves and the blackness of the sky for so long.
It might be worth making this a Friday ritual since the day job is so conveniently located right next to a train station so within less than an hour I can be at the beach recharging the old grey cells.
Then it was time to board the bus back home. The magic slowly slipped away the nearer I got to the city. But never mind, I could do it all again the next day at a different beach.
It was also beautiful but it was not possible to linger like last night since the last bus to the Lair leaves at 8pm and I would have to catch a connecting one at 7.15pm. (The snail turned up 15 minutes late meaning a whole pile of time spent worrying if I would make the connection which pretty much wiped out much of the good karma collected by the beach)
There were not just sculptures and the Kelp Bar on the beach to provide amusement for visitors. There was also an evening munchies market too and being Fremantle (known for hippies and green feral freaks) there were plenty of vegetarian options.
So in a break from the usual BYO tradition of providing my own nibblies and bottle for a sunset picnic, I got a felafel wrap and a glass of red from the bar and sat at a table outside toasting the sunset.
So now we should have six wonderful months in Winterland where the odds of a 35 degree day are greatly reduced and once again I might get my mojo back.
Apart from sunsets at the beach, the other big Izzie ritual at equinox (and solstice) time is to get out the little green book to write the new batch of 3 month, 1 year and 5 year plans. This also involves checking through the old ones to see what sort of progress I’ve made since the last time. Was I ever so amused to see one wishful thinking item tucked neatly in the June 2013 to June 2018 list - “Visit to Europe”. It felt very strange and spooky ticking off that particular item today and made me very aware of the scary magical powers that such lists can unleash as it is not the first time this has happened. But that is a tale for another day.