The 365 days of Christmas

the mudlark blog

The days of humid heat lie thick around us. But Christmas appears a long way away. Two more sleeps; but we are still all working. There is no tree decorated, no pile of impatient presents, no lists of food. Just one large bowl of brandy soaked fruit give any hint that Christmas might be any minute now. We have yet to slow down or find that extra giving spirit. The message of Christmas appears to be 'quick hurry up, the end of the year is nigh, and there's still so much to do'. Mark is back for a day in the workshop to help Ross finish a major order that has taken many months to complete. He is joined by Scott who has trained and worked hard all year developing his fine furniture skills. And a WWOOFer from Germany, Niko, who came for a week but has been sucked in for a month or maybe more. (Actually, Ross and I have decided such visitors are WHIFFS – willing helpers in fine furniture studios – it's too hot for gardening anyway.) Mark's family are here too, and Donna makes nine – there is a sense of celebration. It is one of those rare and beautiful days that we manage hard work and party atmosphere. The beers and champagne wait along with the deck for the twilight end of this day, this year - a finishing of furnished marvelling. Ross came back from his triumphant tour of Europe and his exhibition in Germany, his pockets stuffed with invitations to return and his mind full of designs and dreams. Then he hurried down to Melbourne to successfully present design doctorate progress amidst more local exhibitions, markets, and promotion. Despite the recession, orders are still arriving – helped perhaps by his chairs in the US 500 Chairs book and our own production on The Fine Furniture of Ross Annels. Maybe you can make a living in craft, but it's a precarious process requiring unmitigated hard work, constant promotion, and dedicated passion. The list of un-replaced whitegoods and unpaid bills is longer than I feel comfortable with, but there is food on the table and richness in the air. The creative life seems to be always poised between the grind of poverty and the greatest of riches. Anika has had a few days in the workshop, on her way to becoming a practicing artist. This holiday is an art escape – she is drawing, painting, carving, and making amidst her chores and cheerful assistance to all and sundry. She and Katerina went to Cirque de Soleil, a long awaited birthday treat which also celebrated her release from the oppressions and torments of school. She is transformed, happy and confident. Katerina, in Brisbane, is looking forward to finishing her chef's apprenticeship and her alternative health course, so that travel becomes an option. She and Sam are spending Christmas day at Sam's parents, although she has spent a few restorative weekends up here recently too. Christmas holidays are a rare indulgence for a chef; an impossibility for an apprentice. I have capped off the year with just one more publication (in Eyeline) on the marvellous abstract landscape art of Pamela Kouwenhoven. And there are a number of interesting writing jobs lined up over the first half of next year. One is a teacher training package on whiteness thanks to Mayrah Dreise's determined work in pushing Indigenous perspectives into the Queensland curriculum. Then some work with environmental architect Marci Webster-Mannison on promoting the re/creation of wild creeks in urban areas, starting with a pilot re-imagining of one of Brisbane's concrete drains. I'm also putting together the green art writing component of Floating Land for June 2009 ('A Collation of Eccentrics') for the Noosa Regional Art Gallery in conjunction with the wonderful editor of Art Monthly Maurice O'Riordan. As you can see, keeping my interdisciplinary fingers in a few local and regional pies – I smell a plum or two... And so, to the sudden plum pudding onset of Christmas. While we may not be putting too much effort into this removed holiday, we do constantly position such passion and generosity into the everyday. Our house is open to all comers; our place full of visitors. Our love for the creative life bursts across the whole year – it cannot be condensed into one mere day. This year we managed a number of celebrations and concerts amongst the hundreds of visitors. Thanks to Scott and Donna who not only transformed their caravan, but also greatly assisted the creation of an outside stage/ eating deck. It sits between the rising moon and setting sun, between the crows ash and the wattle, between the house and the view, between the domestic and the wild. This is where Linsey Pollak gave his recent concert, The Extinction Room, playing surprisingly uplifting music that drew upon the sounds of rare and endangered animals, as the sun set across our valley amidst the white noise of crickets and frogs. This is where our friends collect, playing music and song, eating fine foods, and gazing into late night fires as the full moon rises. This is the life we hoped for – and here it lies; ceremonial time arises quietly in this magic valley. It lies in the everyday as much as it rises in the special. It is a humbling local place rather than a grand event. With the establishment of The Cooroora Institute, we aim to tread lightly and joyfully upon this earth. There is the occasional heavy and doleful foot of course, but generally (and especially on such a day as this) I think we succeed in this modest goal. The days are long, the crickets and cicadas loud, and the place is bursting with life. Snakes, echidnas, longicorn beetles, possums, bandicoots, turkeys, humans, dogs, chooks, and birds beyond naming, share the long view and this predatory peace. And that is the best I can hope for in the form of Christmas cheer and wishes – for us all, human and non-human alike, to share the long view and the predatory peace. 2009 will unfold as it may (or is it, may unfold as it will?). We are all responsible for the world we live in, and it is time we - all this earth's sentience - dreamed it to be a collaborative and joyful place, every day. < Prev   Next >