PEKING DUCK IN CHINATOWN

“One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.” - Luciano Pavarotti

I had a very busy day at work today, even though it was only a half-day at the office. In the afternoon we had our graduation in Melbourne and it turned to be quite an occasion at the Melbourne Town Hall, with many students, family and friends attending as well as a very sizeable turn out in terms of the academic staff. All of this despite a very cold, wet and miserable day. It meant that it was a 14-hour working day as I start very early, but the latter half was also quite enjoyable as it was devoted to a ceremonial occasion.

The graduation ceremony was organized extremely well and the venue was magnificent. We are very thankful for the rich finds in the Victorian goldfields of the 19th century as they were the reason for Melbourne’s prosperity and construction at that time of such magnificent public buildings as the Town Hall.

After the graduation we had a cocktail party for the graduates and their families with drinks and finger food, which allowed us to circulate and talk to them. There were overwhelmingly positive remarks and good feedback about he function and it was good to see some of the students I know and meet with their families, including some international students from such far away places as the Seychelles, the Sudan and Indonesia.

Afterwards, a small group of us were hosted to dinner by our CEO and we went to the Da Hu Peking Duck Restaurant in Melbourne’s Chinatown. While this is not one of the best Chinese Restaurants in Melbourne, it offers some reliable dishes and it truly does the specialty duck well. We had a juicy, tender duck with crispy skin served in the traditional way. We enjoyed that very much and the dinner was very pleasant.

Peking Duck is a famous duck dish from Beijing that has a history of centuries, beng prepared in China since the imperial era. It is a signature recipe renowned the world over and is considered one of China’s national dishes.  The duck is prized for the thin, crispy skin and succulent flavoured flesh, sliced in front of the diners by the cook. Ducks bred specially for the dish are slaughtered after 65 days and seasoned before being roasted in a closed or hung oven. The meat is eaten wrapped in paper-thin pancakes with spring onions, julienne cucumber and hoisin sauce. The two most notable restaurants in Beijing which serve this delicacy are Quanjude and Bianyifang, two centuries-old establishments which have become household names.

INTERNATIONAL NURSES' DAY

“The trained nurse has become one of the great blessings of humanity, taking a place beside the physician and the priest.” - William Osler

It is International Nurses’ Day today celebrated around the world every May 12, the anniversary of Florence Nightingale’s birth. Florence Nightingale is famous for her nursing work during the Crimean War (1854-1856). She changed the face of nursing from a mostly untrained job to a highly skilled and well-respected medical profession with very important responsibilities. Florence Nightingale was born in Florence, Italy on 12 May 1820 and the city she was born in provided her family with inspiration for her first name.

Her father, William Nightingale, was a wealthy landowner. Florence was brought up in Derbyshire (where she spent her summers) and Hampshire (where she spent her winters). At the time when Florence was born, many girls did not receive any type of education except how to run a household and how to be good hostess. Florence was very lucky because her father believed that all women should receive an education. He taught Florence and her sister a variety of subjects ranging from science and mathematics to history and philosophy.

As Florence grew up she developed an interest in helping others. She cared for sick pets and servants whenever she had the chance.  At seventeen years of age, she believed her calling in life was “to do something toward lifting the load of suffering from the helpless and miserable.” At first her parents refused to allow her to become a nurse because, at that time, it was not thought to be a suitable profession for a well-educated woman of her social class. But Florence persisted and eventually her father gave his permission and Florence went to Europe in 1849 to study the European hospital system. In 1850, she travelled to Alexandria, Egypt and began studying nursing at the Institute of Saint Vincent de Paul. In 1851, aged thirty-one, Florence went to Germany to train to become a nurse. In 1853 she came back to England and sufficiently trained she was running the Hospital for Gentlewomen in London as a superintendent.

In 1854 Florence Nightingale was asked to go to Turkey to manage the nursing of British soldiers wounded in the Crimean War (1854-1856). She travelled to Scutari (the location where the wounded and ill soldiers of the Crimean War were taken) to help the wounded soldiers. In Scutari, she found the hospital conditions to be appalling. Many of the wounded were unwashed and were sleeping in overcrowded, dirty rooms without blankets or decent food. In these conditions diseases such as typhus, cholera and dysentery spread quickly. As a result, the death rate amongst wounded soldiers was very high. Most soldiers died from infections and disease (only one in six died from their war wounds; the other five in six died from infections and disease).

Florence and her nurses changed these conditions. They set up a kitchen, fed the wounded from their own supplies, dug latrines for sanitation, and asked for help from the wives of the wounded. They were then able to properly care for the ill and wounded and the death rate among the soldiers dropped.  Florence was very dedicated to her job. She would often visit the soldiers at night when every one was asleep just to make sure they were at ease. She was then referred to as “The Lady of the Lamp” because she hardly took time off to sleep. Florence became a true hero to the soldiers and everyone back home in England.

While at Scutari, Nightingale collected data and systematised record-keeping. She was able to use the data effectively as a tool for improving city and military hospitals. Nightingale’s calculations of the mortality rate showed that with an improvement of sanitary methods, deaths would decrease. Nightingale took her statistical data and represented them graphically. She invented polar-area charts, where the statistic being represented is proportional to the area of a wedge in a circular diagram.

Nightingale’s personality is well documented. She rebelled against the idle, sheltered existence of her family her entire life. She achieved a leading position in a world dominated by men, driving and directing her male coworkers as hard as she did herself. She often complained that women were selfish, and she had no time for the growing women’s rights movement. But she also developed an idea of spiritual (relating to or affecting the spirit) motherhood and saw herself as the mother of the men of the British army (“my children” as she called them) whom she had saved. Florence Nightingale never really recovered from the physical strain of the Crimean War. After 1861 she rarely left her home and was confined to her bed much of the time. She died on August 13, 1910, in London, England.

International Nurses’ Day is celebrated every day by the International Council of Nurses, which commemorates this important day each year with the production and distribution of the International Nurses’ Day Kit. The theme for 2011 is: “Closing the Gap: Increasing Access and Equity”.

WALKING IN THE RAIN

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” -  Plato

An unexpected, very special lunch date today and despite the miserable autumn day, a radiant warmness in my heart! It is this heat that dictated this poem today…

Walking in the Rain

The pattern of copper leaves on wet, gray sidewalk
A jigsaw in disarray –
The broken image of a season of discontent.
Sharp claws of cold scratch my face
While rain falls relentlessly
The river merging imperceptibly with the wet air.

I walk determined, ignoring my wet trouser legs,
Shivering even under layers of clothes
That fail to insulate me, leave me exposed
To late autumn weather;
The thought of you warms my core
And your sunny smile remembered moves me forward.

A sudden wind gust catches umbrellas
Turning them inside out, upside down,
And their owners struggle to discipline them.
The rain keeps falling
As I keep walking, each step takes me
Closer to you, my warm and cosy haven.

A homeless man wrapped in a dirty blanket
Sleeps fitfully as the rain soaks him
His wet hat failing to acknowledge the sound of my coin
Falling in its empty depths.
You are my home and no rain will keep me away
From your snug embrace.

I am soaked now but I can see your door,
All lit up brightly, a beacon in the gloom;
I smile, oblivious to the icy, biting wind
That only fans my ardour more,
This stolen hour just after midday
On a cold, wet, gray – but oh, so beautiful – day!

FROSTY MORNING

“The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one.” - Oscar Wilde

I got up frightfully early today, not because of any special reason, but simply because I had had enough sleep. When I was a young lad, I was a sleepyhead. After puberty I started to sleep less and in my late twenties I needed only about six hours sleep a night. Nowadays I seem to only need about four or five. It is a good deep sleep that seems to refresh and relax me sufficiently. This regime also allows me to get a lot more done, in terms of both work and leisure. When I shall die I shall sleep for a long time indeed, so I am grateful that most of my living time is awake time!

The temperature at the station (where I caught the earlier train) was 3˚C and frost made the stairs of the overpass treacherous. Casting my eyes heavenwards I was rewarded with a view of three bright planets above the eastern horizon. Mercury (how rare to see this one so clearly!), Venus and Jupiter all resplendent, with Mars lagging behind them a little, closer to the horizon. Low in the sky of the east, dawn was breaking with the firmament turning a paler dark blue where it touched the earth. The bright yellow streetlights gave the landscape a surrealistic feel and the deserted streets littered with autumn leaves contributed to this.

When I got to work, our maintenance man told me that the heating system was not working and that we would have to endure the cold not only today, but until it was fixed sometime later this week. Just as well I had a small heater in my room that warmed it slightly! It meant that my ears could defrost. Tomorrow morning I shall wear my woollen beanie – surely a sign of getting old! Whenever I felt particularly cold today, at my desk, in the conference room, outside, I turned my thoughts to the couple of homeless people I saw huddled outside the station, wrapped in dirty blankets and obviously feeling much colder during the night than I had ever felt. Everything is relative, with discomfort and hardship being an apt example here.

Nevertheless, the day was a busy one, with lots achieved, despite the two meetings that I had to attend. Maybe the coldness of the building contributed to mental acuity! Punish the flesh and exercise the mind… My immediate boss, who also to happens to be the CEO was visiting the campus today and we had a long chat about all sorts of things. I get on well with her and as well as working well together we often have a laugh or two. She is a seasoned businesswoman and her experience has stood her in good stead when dealing with some urgent issues that she inherited from her predecessor.

We have the graduation ceremony coming up here in Melbourne on Friday and then I’m off to the graduation ceremony in Adelaide on Sunday. Then first thing on Monday morning, off to Brisbane for a meeting at the Department of Education. Later on this month, to Brisbane and Perth again. Travelling for work does get tiring very quickly and day trips over such long distances can be exhausting, but I’d rather sleep in my own bed than in a hotel room.

MOVIE MONDAY - THE GUARDIAN

“The men and women who have the right ideals are those who have the courage to strive for the happiness which comes only with labor and effort and self-sacrifice, and those whose joy in life springs in part from power of work and sense of duty.” - Theodore Roosevelt

We watched a standard, formulaic Hollywood film at the weekend, but strangely enough we did rather enjoyed it. It was the 2006 Andrew Davis film, “The Guardian” starring Kevin Costner, Ashton Kutcher, Sela Ward and Melissa Sagemiller. Now let me clarify what I mean by a “formulaic” film. The prime elements of the story were based on conflict between an older teacher and a younger student, with a struggle to succeed in the face of adversity, the courage of maintaining sight of one’s goals and the determination to achieve them, as well as a theme of self-sacrifice, which had to overcome pride and selfishness. Add a couple of subplots for romantic interest and surround the whole with spectacular scenery, great cinematography and good direction and you have a typical Hollywood production aiming for box-office success.

The film borrows from previous such films of which there are plentiful examples: “Top Gun”, An Officer and A Gentleman”, “GI Jane”, “Pearl Harbor”, etc, etc… Central to this particular story are the sea and the US Coast Guard. More specifically, the rescue swimmers of the Coast Guard, who risk their lives on a daily basis to save those who are endangered when their vessels capsize. At 139 minutes, the film is a tad too long and there could have been a bit more celluloid on the cutting room to make it tighter. At one stage we thought the film was about to finish (on a bright note, but no, it just kept going…). Some additional character development would not have gone astray.

The plot in a nutshell is this: An experienced but ageing rescue swimmer (Costner) with the US Coast Guard in Kodiak, Alaska, takes part in a rescue mission that goes horribly wrong, and his whole team is killed, he being the only survivor. At the same time his wife (Ward) has decided she wants a divorce as she has become sick of competing with his real love – his job. He is given the choice of retiring or of becoming an instructor at the Coast Guard training facility in Louisiana. He takes the teaching position with more than a couple of misgivings. He moves in and makes changes not only to the curriculum and teaching methods, but he begins to fail promising young students without a second thought, basing his decisions on his experience. At the academy, he meets a young man (Kutcher) with unlimited potential, but with a psychological problem that holds him back from functioning as a member of the team. The two develop an adversarial relationship that prevents them from functioning well. Thrown into the midst of the story is the young student’s romance with a local girl (Sagemiller). As the film progresses the instructor and the student find that they share much and finally success crowns both the teacher’s and the student’s efforts. When the two of them return to Kodiak to work side by side on rescue missions, trouble develops again…

The film has plenty of action scenes and there is a host of special effects that support the plot. Most of these parts of the film are extremely well done and help to drive action forward. The film sags when the romantic interests intrude and when there are too many repetitive elements (e.g. the training scenes). The film could have become corny, but it saves itself from that by a whisker. Both Costner and Kuchner act well, but the top honours go to Costner. Ward and Sagemiller are there for decorative purposes, one feels, and I would have preferred a little more depth of character shown in the depiction of these two women.

There are some poignant scenes designed to pull on the heart strings, some half-hearted attempts at humour, but overall this is a classic dick flick, designed to inspire and educate. It is a prime vehicle for US Coast Guard recruitment campaigns and it does tend to mythologise a little the dangerous and risky work of rescue swimmers. These are heroes who have to make difficult decisions in the face of adversity, while trying to save lives, hopefully not by squandering their own. Foolhardiness is shown more than once in the film and its consequences are sobering.

We mostly enjoyed the film and would recommend it for viewing, if it falls in your lap. I wouldn’t go to any great lengths to search for it and watch it, unless you have a special interest in this type of work. Our greatest objection to it in retrospect was that it was rather too shallow, while trying to be deep. At the time it didn’t feel that way, it was more on reflection that it appeared that way. Probably not a good idea to watch the film if you get seasick easily or if you are thalassophobic!

ART SUNDAY FOR MOTHERS' DAY

“My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.” - George Washington

Mothers’ Day in Melbourne started out being cool and gray. There was rain predicted for later so it was a nice day for a sleep-in and a hot breakfast. The giving of gifts and flowers then followed and we later went out and visited a Sunday market, which despite the weather was absolutely full of people. Pots of chrysanthemums and bunches of flowers were being sold everywhere and tables of bric-a-brac, china, books and DVDs as well as the inevitable slippers had big signs advertising that all of these items were indeed a “perfect Mothers’ Day gift that your Mum will adore!”… At about lunchtime the rain started to fall and we went back home. We watched a movie and then had a quiet afternoon. In the evening I did some work and then read a little. There went the Sunday…

For Mothers’ Day one cannot go past Mary Cassatt as a special featured artist for this day. Cassatt was an American painter and printmaker who exhibited with the Impressionists. She was born on May 22, 1844, in Allegheny City, now part of Pittsburg, and died June 14, 1926, Château de Beaufresne, near Paris, France. She lived in Europe for five years as a young girl. Late in the USA, she was tutored privately in art in Philadelphia and attended the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in 1861–65, but she preferred learning on her own and in 1866 travelled to Europe to study. Her first major showing was at the Paris Salon of 1872; four more annual Salon exhibitions followed.

In 1874 Cassatt chose Paris as her permanent home and established her studio there. She shared with the Impressionists an interest in experiment and in using bright colours inspired by the out-of-doors. Edgar Degas became her friend; his style and that of Gustave Courbet inspired her own. Degas was known to admire her drawing especially, and at his request she exhibited with the Impressionists in 1879 and joined them in shows in 1880, 1881, and 1886. Like Degas, Cassatt showed great mastery of drawing, and both artists preferred unposed asymmetrical compositions. Cassatt also was innovative and inventive in exploiting the medium of pastels.

Initially, Cassatt was a figure painter whose subjects were groups of women drinking tea or on outings with friends. After the great exhibition of Japanese prints held in Paris in 1890, she brought out her series of 10 coloured prints, in which the influence of the Japanese masters Utamaro and Toyokuni is apparent. In these etchings, combining aquatint, dry point, and soft ground, she brought her printmaking technique to perfection. Her emphasis shifted from form to line and pattern. Soon after 1900 her eyesight began to fail, and by 1914 she had ceased working. The principal motif of her mature and perhaps most familiar period is mothers caring for small children. The painting above "Breakfast in Bed" of 1897 (Huntington Library and Art Collection) typifies this genre of her painting.

Cassatt urged her wealthy American friends and relatives to buy Impressionist paintings, and in this way, more than through her own works, she exerted a lasting influence on American taste. She was largely responsible for selecting the works that make up the H.O. Havemeyer Collection in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.

BACK HOME... TO BACH

“A house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body.” - Benjamin Franklin

It’s good to be home again. Perth is such a long away! Flying there really drives home the point what a big country Australia is…

For Music Saturday something restful and beautiful. Voices from the past, reinterpreting Bach’s music vocally. The purists may be offended, but I think Bach would have approved, being the genius that he was and not afraid of innovation and variation (think of of how many arrangements of other composers’ music he made, and how many rearrangements of his own works for varying ensembles).

Here are the Swingle Singers performing the wonderful Sinfonia in G Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach.

DINING AND DRINKING IN PERTH

“To get away from one’s working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one’s self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.” - Charles Horton Cooley

I am in Perth for work and the weather here has been marvellous. Fine, sunny, almost summery temperatures. Certainly a very mild autumn, unlike Melbourne’s gray one. I was here for our graduation ceremony, which was held in Perth Town Hall, a beautiful old building. It was opened in 1870 and is the only convict-built capital city town hall in Australia. The building is a fine example of the Victorian Free Gothic style. It is located at the highest point of the City, at the corner of Hay and Barrack Streets. An award-winning restoration, completed in 2005, made this heritage building a well-equipped venue for performances, banquets, cocktail receptions, forums, weddings and community events and exhibitions.

Our graduation went very well and everyone enjoyed it, most of all of course, the graduates who received their testamurs after a working for so long and so hard for them. There was a cocktail function afterwards and it is always gratifying to talk to the graduates and the families. One hears a host of interesting things about their experiences, the way they sum up their course and also more importantly, what their plans for the future are.

A small group of us then went out to dinner at éCucina, a trendy restaurant and bar in Perth’s CBD. This offers an Italian-inspired menu for breakfast, lunch dinner and there are also snacks and stuzzichini (Italian-style tapas) served with drinks at the bar. The service was very good and our food was very nice. The company surely always determines whether a night out is successful and we had a very good small group of compatible people. The surroundings were quiet and conducive to pleasant conversation, witty repartee and lots of dinnertime discussion.

Some of the interesting dishes at the restaurant:

For Entrée: Tea-smoked duck salad with seared scallops, mint, peanuts, green pawpaw, pale sugar, chilli and lemongrass dressing; or perhaps, Hiramasa Kingfish Ceviche with pink grapefruit, lime, chilli and baby shiso, finished with extra virgin olive oil. One could also have the tasting plate of antipasti or the charcuterie plate with pork terrine, chicken liver parfait, homemade Italian sausage with cornichons, mustard fruits and warm baguette. A variety of pasta and risotto dishes are offered, not surprising in an Italian restaurant. However, there are some other interesting Mediterranean, Middle Eastern and Oriental touches, such as the addition of harissa, Persian feta, wagyu, chimichurri or green peppercorns.

Main dishes offer a variety of meats – lamb, beef, pork, poultry, with touches of seafood here and there.  The grilled Tasmanian salmon with orange and miso, saffron linguine, fennel and orange salad sounded interesting. Steaks were excellent and sourced from grain fed cattle in WA’s southwest and aged on the premises. Side dishes completed the menu, but at the end of our meal, consumed with a good McLaren Vale Shiraz, we didn’t have any room for desserts or coffee.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped at the Hula Bula Bar (sic!). The place is so kitch that it’s definitely worth visiting. It styles itself as Australia’s only Tiki bar and is decorated garishly using a Hawaiian/Polynesian theme. It is located at 12 Victoria Avenue in Perth’s CBD. The cocktails served are absolutely lethal! The bar was full and noisy, obviously very popular with the locals. The exorbitant prices of the drinks didn’t seem to deter the many people who were intent on drinking themselves under the tables! We had a single drink and went back to the hotel… Just goes to prove that we were a group of old fuddy-duddies!

CINCO DE MAYO

“If it were necessary to give the briefest possible definition of imperialism, we should have to say that imperialism is the monopoly stage of capitalism.” - Vladimir Lenin

Today is Cinco de Mayo, which is a regional Mexican holiday observed in the state of Puebla and its capital city of Puebla. However, the sizeable population of expatriate Mexicans in several large cities of the USA, observe this holiday with so much fervour and merry-making, that many Americans regard the 5th of May as an important Mexican holiday, or even the Mexican Independence Day (which is actually on September 16).

Cinco de Mayo marks the victory of the Mexican Army over the French at the Battle of Puebla. Even though the Mexican army was eventually defeated, the “Batalla de Puebla” came to represent a symbol of Mexican unity and patriotism. With this battle, Mexicans demonstrated to the world that Mexico and all of Latin America were willing to defend themselves against any foreign intervention. This was especially true in those countries where imperialists bent on world conquest had established themselves and were ruling the countries for their own benefit and interest, while the indigenous people suffered.

The French occupation of Mexico developed in the aftermath of the Mexican-American War of 1846-48. With this war, Mexico entered a period of national crisis during the 1850’s. Years of not only fighting the Americans but also a Civil War, had left Mexico devastated and bankrupt. On July 17, 1861, President Benito Juarez issued a moratorium in which all foreign debt payments would be suspended for a brief period of two years, with the promise that after this period, payments would resume.

The English, Spanish and French refused to allow president Juarez to do this, and instead decided to invade Mexico and get payments by whatever means necessary. The Spanish and English eventually withdrew, but the French refused to leave. Their intention was to create an Empire in Mexico under Napoleon III. Some have argued that the true French occupation was a response to growing American power and to the Monroe Doctrine (America for the Americans). Napoleon III believed that if the USA was allowed to prosper indiscriminately, it would eventually become a world power and usurp the domination of the world by Britain, Spain, France and Germany.

In 1862, the French army began its advance. Under General Ignacio Zaragoza, 5,000 ill-equipped Mestizo and Zapotec Indians defeated the French army in what came to be known as the “Batalla de Puebla” on the fifth of May. In the USA, the “Batalla de Puebla” came to be known as simply “Cinco de Mayo”. Mexican Independence was declared on September 16, 1810, the day which is still observed throughout in Mexico as National Day.

Cinco de Mayo has become more of Chicano holiday than a Mexican one. The day is celebrated on a much larger scale in the USA than it is in Mexico. People of Mexican descent in the United States celebrate this significant day by having parades, mariachi music, folkloric dancing and other types of festivities. In any case, the day is worth celebrating as a commemoration of indigenous people’s need for self-rule and freedom from imperialistic powers.

imperialism |imˈpi(ə)rēəˌlizəm| noun
A policy of extending a country’s power and influence through diplomacy or military force: The struggle against French imperialism in 19th century Mexico. Figurative: French ministers protested at U.S. cultural imperialism.
• chiefly historical rule by an emperor.
DERIVATIVES
imperialist |-ˌpi(ə) ˈrēəlist| noun
imperialistic |-ˌpi(ə)rēəˈlistik| adjective
imperialistically adverb
ORIGIN late Middle English: Via Old French from Latin imperialis, from imperium ‘command, authority, empire’; related to imperare ‘to command.’

MY SEARING LOVE

“Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly.” - Proverb

Love sustains and consumes the world. It keeps us going in times of hardship, easing our distress, but at the same time causing us as much pain as it gives pleasure. When we lack it, we are miserable, but even when we are in love we often are even more miserable. The maddening contradictory emotions of love disrupt our equilibrium and run through our fragile equanimity like a cyclone that wreaks havoc wherever it passes.

Here is a poem I wrote some time ago when very much in love. I view that time now with some bemusement. It was as though I were gravely sick then. After that serious illness, a slow recovery and a gradual return to normality. Now that I simply love and am loved, how wonderful is this feeling of temperate and gentle interdependence that this stable, simple love rich in affection, caring companionship and contentment offers. And yet, the maelstrom of that time of being in love has left indelible sweet memories, not only painful ones.

My Searing Love

My searing love ignites my senses,
A scalding sun that scorches
My every fibre.
No rain,
No river,
No lake,
Can quench it.

My fevered love sears my brow,
Makes my flesh red-hot,
My soul now incandescent.
No ice,
No snow,
No frost,
Can cool it.

My fiery love consumes my being,
A furnace, burning white-hot,
Setting my heart in flames.
No river,
No sea,
No ocean,
Can extinguish it.

My searing love only to be assuaged by
Your single tear shed only for me.
My fevered love only to be cooled down by
Your refreshing touch as you caress me.
My fiery love only to be doused by
Your revitalising words of love,
That first smother the fire,
Then re-ignite it once again afresh…

IN THE NEWS

“I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: Only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King, Jr

The news in the last couple of weeks has been rather dismal and unfortunately, the indications are that things will get worse before they get any better. Economic woes, more revelations of radiation contamination in Japan, a host more natural disasters, the devastation in Alabama wrought by the wild tornadoes are all stories that affect every sensitive person’s psyche in ways that interfere with the way that each of us deals with everyday existence. The search for safety valves and the attempt to release all that tension and quest for some good news stories was exemplified by the near hysteria that accompanied the royal wedding and the scenes of wild elation and abandon that was evident not only in the UK, but the world over.

However, dominating the news in the last two days is the death of Osama Bin Laden (March 10, 1957 – May 2, 2011). This has saturated the media and one cannot get away from the images of that well-known bearded face with the suggestion of a smile that somehow chills the marrow of an onlooker. The circumstances surrounding the execution of Osama Bin Laden have attracted much criticism, as has the reaction of wild elation that accompanied release of the news in the USA, especially. The quote that I started this post with, which I read sometime ago has stayed with me and it seems extremely apt under the present circumstances.

One cannot but deplore the thousands of lives lost as the result of terrorist actions instigated by extremist organisations driven by directives from leaders who thrive in a culture of hate and terror. Whether they are Christian or Muslim, Hindu or Atheist, hate engenders hate as Martin Luther King, Jr indicates. Some crimes are heinous and generate within us extreme reactions of revulsion and disgust. People affected personally by the violence, those who have lost loved ones yearn for justice and quote Mosaic law: “An eye for eye and a tooth for a tooth”. Blood shed seeks the revenge that can only be satisfied by shedding even more blood. Vendetta mentality in the past wiped out whole families and made once populous villages ghosts of their former glory.

There are those who already doubt that Osama Bin Laden is dead. The conspiracy theorists thrive in times such as these and under such circumstances. According to them, Osama Bin Laden is alive and well keeping company with Michael Jackson and Elvis Presley. The American task force that carried the execution apparently has incontrovertible proof of his death. However, the burial at sea and disappearance of the body have added fuel to the conspiracy theory.

Our world changed with the fall of the Twin Towers in New York City on September 11 2001. This terrorist attack that resulted in 2,752 deaths killed more than people. It wounded a nation’s pride, it created a sore that still bleeds in the people of the USA and an ulcer that fails to heal. Will Osama Bin Laden’s death help scarify these wounds? Will Al Qaeda be defeated or is this latest action engender even more violence, more terror, more destruction? Is this an end or a new beginning of even more abominations?

MOVIE MONDAY - DARK WATER

“For as children tremble and fear everything in the blind darkness, so we in the light sometimes fear what is no more to be feared than the things children in the dark hold in terror and imagine will come true.” - Titus Lucretius Carus

At the weekend we watched an interesting film, which although was touted as a “horror” film, is more of a psychological thriller and a drama with a supernatural twist. There are no over-the-top blood-curdling scenes, no high-pitched string soundtrack, no blood-stained knives, or violence, but rather a constant on-edge feeling that builds up to a good, satisfying climax. The film is Walter Salles’ 2005 “Dark Water”, which is based on a Japanese novel by Kôji Suzuki and a film by Hideo Nakata “Honogurai mizu no soko kara”, who also created the “Ringu” film.

Dahlia Williams (Jennifer Connelly) and her young daughter Cecelia (Ariel Gade) move into a rundown (but affordable) apartment on New York’s Roosevelt Island. Dahlia is currently in midst of a custody battle for Cecelia and messy divorce proceedings, as well as having to deal with constant migraines and unresolved issues from her childhood.  The apartment comes on the recommendation of a sleazy agent (played excellently by John C. Reilly) and has a creepy janitor (great character actor Pete Postlethwaite). From the time the mother and daughter arrive, there are mysterious events, strange noises from the apartment upstairs, whispers and visions. To add to the discomfort, there is a constant drip of dark water from the ceiling in her daughter’s bedroom. Water plays an important role in the movie, not only as it drips from the ceiling, but also the seemingly constant rain that falls from leaden skies, knee-deep water in the apartment above Dahlia’s and a roof water reservoir that looks forbidding and menacing.

Tim Roth does a good job of playing Dahlia’s unconventional lawyer and Dougray Scott is convincing as her estranged husband. The acting honours go to Connelly and Gade, who seem to have a great chemistry, being very convincing as the troubled mother and daughter. Connely gives an acting recital and what could have been a role that could be hammed up considerably, is played with restraint and great aplomb. Her difficulty in coping with her life is conveyed with conviction and half of the success of the film is due to Connelly’s ability to transfer her uneasiness, anxiety and distress to the viewer.

Salles directs the movie with great skill and he manages to get the most out of every scene and out of each actor. There is great atmosphere, well-planned lighting and good scene-setting. The viewer is immersed into the troubled, tense agitation of Dahlia and her daughter, with a build-up that raises the viewer’s apprehension and disquiet until the ultimate scenes when Dahlia finally realises what need be done to save the situation.

The jacket of the DVD has a lot of irrelevant marketing hype about this being a “horror” movie, but it is in fact a human drama, with even the supernatural element being almost an afterthought. Instead of ghosts, one could view the supernatural elements as products of Dahlia’s troubled mind. It is not your regular ghost story. Dahlia’s attempt to cope with her own past and attempts to resolve the conflict in her relationship with her neglectful mother is a strong driving force in the movie. It also explains Dahlia’s actions and her immense love for her own daughter, which ultimately determines her actions and the course that she takes in the end.

It is an intelligent, dark and tense psychological thriller, which creates an apprehensive, uncomfortable atmosphere from the beginning. It is tragic and sad, especially in its ending, but is characterised by good acting, good direction, but perhaps could have benefitted from a stronger script. The removal of the supernatural element in favour of a psychological explanation for Dahlia’s actions could have allowed the film to be marketed more as a drama rather than as the misguided move to market it as a “horror” movie. Good one to watch!

MAY DAY AND OPHELIA

“He that is in a town in May loseth his spring.” - George Herbert

Happy May Day! I hope that Spring has truly sprung in the Northern Hemisphere, and that you took the opportunity to go gambolling in the fields, a-Maying! I know in many European countries, May Day is an opportunity for going out into the countryside and collecting wildflowers. It is a time of singing, dancing and celebration. Winter has well and truly gone and Spring is in its full glory. A May wreath is made and hung up on the entrance door once everyone returns t the house. This may well be another tradition that is lost to city dwellers just as the countryside gets progressively further and further away from them as the city sprawls ever outward.

We drove out into the countryside, but it was well and truly Autumn (see my Photoblog)! The skies gray, the occasional shower fell but nevertheless, we went a-Maying! We still have a wonderful showing of blooms in our gardens, with the glory of the chrysanthemums in preparation for Mother’s Day next Sunday.

In tribute of the day, a flower painting by Odilon Redon, who painted many flower pictures replete with striking colour and brilliant pure pastel hues, pastel on paper being one of his favourite mediums.

Bertrand-Jean Redon better known as Odilon Redon (April 20, 1840 - July 6, 1916) was a Symbolist painter and printmaker. He was born in Bordeaux, Aquitaine, France. Odilon was a nickname derived from his mother, Odile. Redon started drawing as a young child, and at the age of 10 he was awarded a drawing prize at school. At age 15, he began formal study in drawing but on the insistence of his father he switched to architecture. His failure to pass the entrance exams at Paris’ Ecole des Beaux-Arts ended any plans for a career as an architect, although he would later study there under Jean-Léon Gérôme.

“Peyrelebade”, his father’s estate in the Médoc became a basic source of inspiration for all his art, providing him with both subjects from nature and a stimulus for his fantasies, and Redon returned there constantly until its enforced sale in 1897. He received his education in Bordeaux from 1851, rapidly showing talent in many art forms: He studied drawing with Stanislas Gorin (≈1824-1874) from 1855 and he also became an accomplished violinist. He developed a keen interest in contemporary literature, partly through the influence of Armand Clavaud, a botanist and thinker who became his friend and intellectual mentor.

He learned lithography under Henri Fantin-Latour and he came to be associated with the Symbolist painters. His oils and pastels, chiefly still lifes with flowers, won him admiration as a colourist from Henri Matisse and other painters. His prints (nearly 200 in all), which explore fantastic, often macabre themes, foreshadowed Surrealism and Dada.

This is his Ophélie dans les fleurs (Ophelia among the Flowers) circa 1905-8, a pastel on paper work (640 x 910 mm). Redon fills this painting with rich, bright colour, highlighting the flowers. Ophelia is in shadowy profile with a relatively sepulchral yellow ochre. The colouration suits the theme of the death of Ophelia from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”. The lovesick Ophelia, driven to madness by Hamlet’s cruel rejection of her, drowns while picking flowers. The sky is a rich yellow pink, signifying perhaps sunset and death, while the blue water that drags Ophelia down is a rich ultramarine.

In his journal for 1903 he wrote of his empathy for natural elements in his work: “I love nature in all her forms ... the humble flower, tree, ground and rocks, up to the majestic peaks of mountains ... I also shiver deeply at the mystery of solitude.”

MELLOW SATURDAY

“He who hears music, feels his solitude peopled at once.” - Robert Browning

One third of the year is already over! Hard to believe how time has rushed by – I seem to blink and another month is over. A sure sign I am getting older, I think. I remember as child how time used to drag and tomorrow never seemed to arrive fast enough (especially if tomorrow was a special day!). Ah well, it is the autumn of my life and at least it is a season of mellow fruitfulness…

Today was another beautiful day with a pleasant sun and a blue sky, which nevertheless remained equable and did not become excessively warm. We went shopping and to the library, taking our time and enjoying the outing, even if it was only for chores. Back home for lunch and then a pleasant relaxing afternoon before going out to dinner.

Here is a cheerful Chaconne by a composer more known for his more melancholic and lugubrious pieces. Marin Marais’ virtuoso divisions on the Chaconne bass pattern, are played by William Skeen, viola da Gamba, and accompanied by Hanneke van Proosdij, harpsichord, and David Tayler, archlute. Live high definition video from the San Francisco Early Music Ensemble Voices of Music Great Artists Concert, 2010. 
Voices of Music performs in and records concerts in St. Mark’s Lutheran, SF.
See: www.voicesofmusic.org

GINGER PUDDINGS

“Work is the meat of life, pleasure the dessert.” - B. C. Forbes

The nights are getting to be rather cold now and as the night falls early, it is good to get home and turn the heater on. Autumn foods are de rigueur, with hot soups, pumpkin and cauliflower dishes, apples, pears, nuts, and of course hot desserts dripping with syrup or delicious sweet sauces. Here is such a dessert, just right for a cool autumn night.

Ginger Puddings
Ingredients

Puddings:
•    Melted butter, to grease
•    170g unsalted butter, at room temperature
•    180g (1 cup, firmly packed) brown sugar
•    1 heaped tablespoonful finely grated fresh ginger
•    1/2 teaspoonful ground cloves
•    2 eggs
•    1 tablespoonful golden syrup
•    180g (1 heaped cup) self-raising flour, sifted
•    80ml (1/3 cup) milk
•    Double cream, to serve

Butterscotch sauce
•    100g (1/2 cup, firmly packed) brown sugar
•    125ml (1/2 cup) thickened cream
•    25g unsalted butter

Method
•    Preheat oven to 180°C. Brush four 250ml (1-cup) capacity muffin pans with melted butter to lightly grease.
•    Use an electric beater to beat the butter, sugar and ginger in a bowl until pale and creamy. Add the egg and golden syrup. Beat until combined. Fold in the flour and milk, in batches, until combined. Divide among the prepared pans.
•    Bake in oven for 25 minutes or until a metal skewer inserted into the centres comes out clean. Set aside in the pans for 5 minutes to cool before turning onto serving plates.
•    Meanwhile, to make the butterscotch sauce, combine the sugar, cream and butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Cook, stirring, for 5 minutes or until the butter melts and the sugar dissolves. Increase heat to medium and bring to the boil. Simmer, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes or until the sauce thickens slightly.
•    Pour the sauce over the puddings. Serve with double cream.

POISONED PENS

“Thanks to words, we have been able to rise above the brutes; and thanks to words, we have often sunk to the level of the demons.” - Aldous Huxley

I have had a very difficult day at work dealing with a very sensitive and delicate matter regarding disciplinary action directed against a staff member. It is never pleasant to have to deal with these issues, however, they are necessary and in any large organisation there are many workers who do not adhere to policy and may engage in unprofessional behaviour. However, it is sometimes difficult to get the person responsible to admit that they are in the wrong, even if proof is staring at them in the face. The evidence in question today related to emails and the inappropriate use of emails.

The ancient Romans used to remark: “Verba volant, scripta manent”. Translated literally, it means “spoken words fly away, written words remain”. It is originally derived from a speech of Caius Titus in the Roman Senate, who said it wishing to drive home the point that spoken words might easily be forgotten, but written documents can always be produced and be the conclusive evidence in public matters. This is a pointed reference to the reliability of written records, on which agreements should be based, rather than a conversation, which can never be agreed upon as an accurate record of what was actually said, if the two sides involved have a different recollection or interpretation of it.

However, the written word also carries a sting in its tail, as something hastily written in the heat of the moment, under stress, or in frustration and anger and sent to someone via email can cause much harm. The ease with which we communicate nowadays via email, SMS, Twitter, Facebook or even through blogging has made us a little unwary. What we write remains and we can be held accountable to it. A quick note written down hurriedly can give a completely different message to the one intended. Especially as the written word is deficient in terms of facial expression, vocal tone, gesture, and further clarification if your interlocutor expresses their inability to fathom what you are saying or what exactly what you mean.

How many celebrities (with the world’s eye on them) have had serious problems with something they published on Twitter or Facebook? How many stories do we hear of very public apologies and retractions of the thoughtless comments that were written unwisely or in haste? There are numerous occasions where something written has created huge issues not only for the writers, but also for the people referred to in the communication… Written words are powerful weapons, and in untrained hands or in the hands of the unwary, can injure as severely as sharp swords. More so than verbal invective, a written attack is there to hurt the recipient continuously and can come back to haunt the writer, who may have repented writing the offensive missive at a later stage.

I have often felt a need to reply immediately to an email I have received which incenses me or insults me or assumes that I am an idiot. How often have I sat down and responded in like tone or language! However, I always do so in “draft” mode. I never send the reply immediately. I sit on it for a variable period of time, read it, re-read it, change it, reshape it, and more often than not, delete the draft without ever sending it. The draft has served its purpose. I have vented my anger, rid myself of the poison and then, when I am suitably composed and having considered the matter from all angles, I rewrite the reply in a more sedate tone and in a more logical frame of mind. The heat has dissipated and in the coolness of good sense I reply in a fair and logical manner, without offending the offender.

In other cases I write something on paper, seal it in an envelope addressed to myself (this is important!) put it in a drawer and come back to it later, the next day being preferable. When I see the envelope with my name on it, I open it pretending its contents were not written by me, but by someone else – a close colleague, a family member or my partner. I try and read the letter through new eyes, trying to imagine the feelings of these people had they read this letter. I invariably feel embarrassed. On some occasions where I have not torn the letter up immediately, I have felt the need to burn it as tearing it up I did not deem to be destruction enough for it!

Catharsis is a powerful emotion. We all need it, we all feel better after it has worked its magic on us. Writing a hasty response to a vituperative email or letter can prove to produce an even more virulent and damaging effect than the original communication did. However, writing such a response can be cathartic. Just don’t send the blooming thing!

catharsis |kəˈθärsis| noun
1 The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.
2 rare Medicine purgation.
ORIGIN early 19th century (sense 2): From Greek katharsis, from kathairein ‘cleanse,’ from katharos ‘pure.’ The notion of “release” through drama ( sense 1) derives from Aristotle’s Poetics.

THE GUEST

“The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.” – Seneca

The days are getting appreciably shorter now and even though the afternoons are warm and sunny, the misty mornings and the violet evenings are cold, with nights getting longer. The sky is strewn with stars and in the crispness of night, their sparkle seems all that more brilliant, more sharp. There are so many dead leaves in the garden now and summer plants decay, black spot marring rose bushes, mould growing on fallen, overripe fruits and fungi growing in the humus. Autumn is here and brings with it an undesired guest that has been waiting in the wings for his cue. Autumn is hosting a death feast and the guest of honour comes on time although uninvited…

The Guest

As I stretched my hand to grab the red balloons,
A guest entered suddenly, and he was unexpected.
I let the red balloons fly up to the sky,
Starting as I saw his awful face.

He had black curly hair, his wet ringlets
Smelling of earth after the rain.
His green eyes were soft,
Like fresh, moistened moss.
His lips were red as if coloured by
Ripe, red, pomegranate seeds.

His bony hands were white, with long fingers,
As he stretched them towards me;
Outside the rain kept falling,
While indoors there was darkness,
Silence, an empty void.
I touched his hand and was startled
By his icy grip.
His arms locked around me
And I felt his embrace around me
Heavy as if it were wet clay.

Now, he stoops and kisses me, tenderly like a father,
And his red lips freeze the life out of me;
While my last warm breath
Melts the ice of his cold heart,
So that it warms with pity towards me.

He holds my hand and leads me
Out into the falling rain –
We don’t mind its liquid silver drops
And we go ever forward, to be lost,
Never to come back.

Above the clouds where the sun always shines,
A thousand red balloons
Go ever upward and so far away.

A DAY AT MONTSALVAT

“There is no surer method of evading the world than by following Art, and no surer method of linking oneself to it than by Art.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

We had a wonderful Autumn day today with bright sunshine and a crisp morning that matured into a warm afternoon. We made the most of the last day of the Easter holidays by driving to Eltham and visiting “Montsalvat”, a wonderful place we hadn’t been to for quite some years. The place is still beautiful and there have been some renovations and refurbishments, however, it was good to see s few artists still in residence. Nevertheless, one can see that it is now more of a function centre and has several formal exhibition spaces where art is shown regularly rather than a true artists’ colony.

Montsalvat was originally established as a true artists’ colony in over 12 acres situated in Eltham, an outer suburb of Melbourne Australia. It was founded by architect and artist Justus Jörgensen (1893-1975) in 1934. It is home to a small hamlet of various buildings, houses and halls set amongst extensive established gardens. The colony of Montsalvat reflects very much the life of Justus Jörgensen and his friends and family. Its buildings and gardens are now very much a part of the history, art and culture of Melbourne. Architecturally, Montsalvat has much in common with a simple French village in Provence revealing a mix of rustic architectural styles.

The name Montsalvat is met with in both German and English mythology. In the German opera “Parsifal”, by Richard Wagner, Montsalvat is the castle, built by Titurel, where the Holy Grail is protected. In the English legend of “King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table”, Montsalvat is mentioned as the home of the Holy Grail. Jörgensen obviously drew on this lore and legend for his inspiration and his grandiose plans are nowhere more apparent than in his “Grand Hall” and adjoining buildings. This is built in the style of a mediaeval manor, and by all accounts Jörgensen ran Montsalvat as a feudal estate in which he ruled as an autocrat. This caused a few of the artists that were initially attracted there to leave forthwith.

All of the buildings on the site were designed and built by residents with locally available materials, such as stone, timber and brick, from various sources. The Great Hall offers an extensive range of spaces from extravagant halls and vast exhibition spaces, to small corridors, little rooms, secret alcoves, mezzanine floors and tiny balconies overlooking the gardens. The grounds and buildings of Montsalvat are now mostly used for exhibitions, performances, conferences, seminars, weddings and receptions. However, a handful of craftspeople and artists (such as Luthiers, Jewellers, Painters, Sculptors and a Writer) continue to reside in Montsalvat. Several classes on various disciplines of art are offered year round by the resident artists. There are small shops that sell the works of these artists and there is also a small gallery housing an exhibition of the work of resident artists.

We had a wonderful day, wandering through the grounds, gardens, buildings and chapel. We admired the paintings in several exhibitions, saw some of the craftspeople and artists at work, conversed with some of the residents and generally enjoyed the atmosphere and the milieu. Montsalvat is certainly one of the jewels in Melbourne’s touristic crown, but most of the people we met there were in fact locals. Whatever the case may be, Australia is still very far away from everywhere and hence off the beaten tourist path.

See more of my photographs of Montsalvat here.

ANZAC DAY - GALLIPOLI

“We have failed to grasp the fact that mankind is becoming a single unit, and that for a unit to fight against itself is suicide.” - Havelock Ellis

Today, Easter Monday, is also Anzac Day, which is observed in Australia and New Zealand as a day of commemoration for those who died in the service of their country, and is a day for honouring returned servicemen and women, whichever battle or war they served in  The 25th day of April is the anniversary of the landing of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACs) at Gallipoli in 1915. On the first anniversary of that landing services were held throughout both countries in remembrance of the thousands of Australian and New Zealand soldiers who died during the eight-month Gallipoli Campaign.

Since 1916 Anzac Day has evolved to the observance we commemorate today. The day of observance begins before dawn with a march by returned and service personnel to the local war memorial, where they are joined by other members of the community for the Dawn Service. This is a solemn and grave ceremony which brings to mind the lives lost and the terrible futility of warfare, whether it happened in Gallipoli, in the Middle East, in America, in Vietnam, in Afghanistan, the Gulf or in Korea…

The assault on the Gallipoli Peninsula began on the 25th April 1915, as an attempt by Allied Command to weaken the strategic position of Germany, Austro-Hungary and Turkey who were allied in the first world war. It was the Australasian Expeditionary Force’s first major engagement of the First World War after their training in Egypt. By the end of the first day of warfare on the Gallipoli peninsula, about 2,000 allied troops lay dead. The bloody fighting continued, and by the end of the first week more than 6500 ANZACs had been killed or wounded. Many thousands of Turks also died there.

Not all brave acts at Gallipoli met with success, however. The film “Gallipoli” tells the story of the 10th Light Horse Regiment from Western Australia and the brave but pointless attack at a place called The Nek. After several mistakes that gave the Turks time to prepare for an attack, the Australians fixed bayonets, leapt out of their trenches and charged the Turkish lines. In just 30 seconds, the first wave of men had all been killed or wounded. The Turks eventually stopped shooting and the battlefield fell silent.

After only two minutes, the second wave stormed from the trenches, into the wall of hot lead and steel. The final wave of ANZACs remained in the trench. They knew the attack was now pointless, and waited for the Generals down on the beach to order them to stop. But the only order they received was to attack. Brothers said goodbye to each other, and friends stood side by side. As they leapt out of the trench they jumped over the bodies of their friends who had been alive only minutes earlier, and knew they would soon join them. No ANZACs ever reached the Turkish trenches. In 1919, after the war was over, several ANZACs went back to Gallipoli to bury their dead properly. At the Nek, they found the bodies of more than 300 Australians in an area smaller than a tennis court.

After eight long months of bitter fighting, the British High Command decided that the war at Gallipoli was too costly when they were also fighting other battles in Europe. The ANZACs alone had lost 10,000 men, and so the order came for a withdrawal. Since the first anniversary of the Gallipoli landing in 1916, Anzac Day has evolved to acknowledge the sacrifice and service of subsequent wars and to encompass new understandings of the full impact of armed conflict on those who have served their country.

The 1981 Peter Weir film “Gallipoli” is a film that captures the spirit of Anzac Day and makes for poignant viewing, especially for anyone who has been in a war zone of been affected by warfare. It is acted well by the young Mel Gibson, Mark Lee and Bill Kerr and it is a film that established Gibson as an international star.

It is an excellent anti-war film that establishes this premise subtly and often with wry humour. It is Australia’s version of “All Quiet on the Western Front”, but instead of using the soldiers’ conscience as its premise at that film does, Gallipoli hinges on the Australian cultural foundation of “mateship”. War brings together mates, then it cruelly separates them. The last twenty minutes of the film are particularly illustrative of the callous and brutal nature of war. I think that long though the film is, and a little slow at times, it still is one of the best Australian films, having substance and meaning, but also emotional strength and a pillar in Australia’s culture.

Lest we forget…

ART SUNDAY - BIRRARUNG MARR

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” - Frederick Douglass

Easter Day today was spent relaxing and having fun. We had a late breakfast, during which we enjoyed Easter goodies (of course we are no longer fasting!) such as egg cookies and tsoureki (Greek Easter sweet bread), washed down with lots of steaming hot milk coffee. There was music and laughter, as well as the exchange of gifts. Then we decided to go out and make the most of the warm, fine autumn day. We decided to visit Birrarung Marr in the City.

Birrarung Marr is on the north bank of the Yarra River next to Federation Square. It is Melbourne’s newest major park, opened in 2002. Its name comes from the language of the Wurundjeri people who originally inhabited this area. “Birrarung” means “river of mists” while “Marr” means river bank. There are many interesting public spaces, beautiful walks and many art works that allow the visitor not only to relax and enjoy the pleasant views of the water and the city skyline, but also many artworks to stimulate and excite the senses. Birrarung Marr is also the home of ArtPlay.

The Birrarung Wilam (meaning “River Camp”) installation celebrates the diversity of Victoria’s indigenous culture by interpreting stories from local communities through public artworks. A winding, textured pathway acknowledges the significance of the eel as a traditional food source for groups camped by the river. Large rocks incised with animal drawings enclose a performance space, and closer to the river a semi-circle of metal shields represents each of the five groups of the Kulin Nation.

ArtPlay is a venue and a project that is housed in a distinct, free-standing red brick warehouse (the sole remaining building of the Melbourne rail yards). Its very prominent and public location ensures Melburnians have every opportunity to discover ArtPlay. It is more studio than classroom with the openness and scale of the building making people feel they can create on a large scale. The blank tables, open spaces and welcoming, natural light give the impression that anything is possible.

ArtPlay owes its existence to “The Ark”, located in Dublin, Ireland, which was the world’s first children’s art centre. The City of Melbourne embraced the idea of creating a similar centre for Melbourne’s children, and that is how ArtPlay was born. Through its support of ArtPlay, the City of Melbourne has demonstrated a commitment to ensuring its children have opportunities to participate in and contribute to the future direction of city life.

ArtPlay’s surrounding playground opened in late 2004. It features decorated walkways, slides, sand areas and a wheelchair swing. Regular workshops at ArtPlay enable children to decorate the playground. ArtPlay’s simple building belies the complexity of its being. The varied programs played out behind ArtPlay’s bright orange door place creativity at the heart of our future society, our children.

On the outside wall of the ArtPlay building are silver touch panels featuring audio recordings of indigenous people telling their personal stories. The artists who created these works were Vicki Couzens, Lee Darroch and Treahna Hamm. Other features of the park include Deborah Halpern’s Angel sculpture; Speakers’ Corner; and the Federation Bells, which ring three times each day with different compositions.

The park is regularly the host to many cultural activities and today was no exception, with the 2011 Christchurch Quake Relief Concert. The line-up included Mi-Sex (NZ), Mike Rudd (ex Spectrum), Angie Hart & Blood Red Bird, Julia Deans (ex Fur Patrol - NZ), Lotek, Clairy Browne & The Bangin’ Rackettes, Vince Peach, Dave Larkin Band, Spencer P Jones (NZ), The Council (NZ), Side Show Brides, Radio Star, The Wellingtons, Cash Savage, Pets with Pets (NZ), Polar Disco, Engine Three Seven, Vaudeville Smash, Massive Hip Hop Choir, Cherrywood and MC Jon Von Goes (Triple R). The huge variety of genres and tunes mean there’s something for everyone to rock out to. Plus, there was great food and drink all around. Each ticket is $30 and booking fees. All proceeds for the event, including half of the booking fees, will be donated straight to the 2011 Red Cross New Zealand Earthquake Appeal.

See more of my photographs of Birrarung Marr here.