You May Call Me Frank

Silly-Looking Birds

2012-01-18T19:19:00.002+11:00

Happy New 2012

2012-01-18T19:18:00.001+11:00

Sundew

2012-01-16T20:32:00.003+11:00

This picture is entered into the Linden Post Card Show. The opening day is Saturday the 2nd of February, which is by tradition, unspeakably hot, or raining, but usually part of the St. Kilda Festival.

Some houses...

2011-10-26T13:44:00.001+11:00

... which are also in the exhibition.

By The Way

2011-10-26T13:35:00.003+11:00

My exhibition of drawings at Brunswick Bound Bookshop; The Mysterious All-Alloneo Archipelago is now up on the walls. The afternoon tea party is on this Saturday and you are all welcome to come. Most of the islands have appeared on this blog, but there are a few new ones.
Brunswick Bound is at 361 Sydney Road Brunswick, and tea will be served at 2 pm on
Saturday 29th of October.

Westgarth

2011-10-09T19:35:00.003+11:00

After Murrumbeena I travelled into the city boxed in by the type of over-educated idiots who think dressing in a rented suit and standing in a field watching horses run about is an acceptable way to spend an afternoon.
Coming back to Clifton Hill in late afternoon light I passed West Richmond, Colingwood, Victoria Park all looking splendid, but I was on the express train to Hurstbridge. At Westgarth station I snapped 2 girls going over the dilapidated footbridge without them noticing; I'd rather not take pictures of people, especially those I don't know, but this was a happy accident ... and don't they look happy?
The new railbridge over Merri Creek looks a bit pop art; is it meant to be retro 1960's?

Murrumbeena

2011-10-09T19:25:00.005+11:00

As unlikely a place as Murrumbeena provided me with a perfectly serviceable cup of teabag for $2.50. An impossibly twee name and sign and logo, but a proper bakery rather than a franchise, with such a high counter I couldn't see over it; meant for working men in search of meat pies and pasties and nescafe in big, manly mugs.
Then a pee in a vintage 1960's toilet block.

Caulfield again.

2011-10-09T19:14:00.004+11:00

The number 3a tram deposited me in Caulfield. I was brought so low I went in to a Gloria Jean's.

Balaclava

2011-10-09T19:02:00.005+11:00

By the time I left Brighton I was starting to be in need of a cup of tea. There are two things which make travel bearable; the availability of toilets and of tea. Other things like a certain amount of civility, privacy and respect for each other by one's fellow passengers, seem to be optional. So I got off at Balaclava in an effort to find a decent cafe serving more black teas than Earl Grey or English Breakfast. Or failing that a tram to parts West and another train station. No cafes with more than a passing acquaintance with tea, but plenty of attitude and snobbery.

Hampton & Brighton Beach

2011-10-09T18:44:00.008+11:00

As befits a posh suburb like Hampton, the train station was both clean and tagging free, and hardly patronized.
Brighton Beach had more people, as well as a working toilet. I've always liked BB station; as an adolescent I spent many winter days wandering on the beach, disconsolately.

Cheltenham

2011-10-06T21:58:00.006+11:00

Cheltenham Station is next to a beautiful cemetery. I wandered about in it for some time.
I had an idea I could catch a bus across to the Dandenong line, but I could only get as far as Southland, and in despair, caught the first bus out of there to Hampton.

Mordialloc

2011-10-06T21:51:00.003+11:00

Mordialloc has picturesque decrepitude and an oddly shaped railway water tower of historical significance.

Carrum

2011-10-06T21:43:00.002+11:00

From Caulfield, to Malvern, then onwards to Carrum, three stops before Frankston. Carrum station looks like a municipal toilet block built in the 1930's.

Caulfield

2011-10-06T21:36:00.006+11:00

I was at Caulfield before 10 am, and Saturday seemed to be turning into a day of warm, filthy wind. The Caulfield races seem to be on because various types of losers and Hooray Henrys wander through the station while I take photos.

Spencer Street

2011-09-21T11:19:00.003+10:00

I began on Saturday with 'Southern Cross' station. I missed a special steam train with what seemed to be red rattler carriages going to Geelong; it was steaming out of the station as I was coming in. It is remarkable how many things I missed out on photographing even when I had a camera in my hands.

Elsternwick Station

2011-09-17T23:17:00.005+10:00

The photos of Windsor Station are mostly of the sunset; and I waited at Elsternwick for the lights to be put on so I could attempt a moody, summery picture of a suburban railway station; it came out as be-bop.

South Yarra

2011-09-17T23:10:00.004+10:00

By this time I was desperately in need of a cup of tea ... but I made do with what was available at a South Yarra Station franchise; a paper cup of hot water, a teabag and quite a lot of milk. And I didn't spill it on myself during my journey to Elsternwick.

Hawksburn

2011-09-17T23:04:00.001+10:00

... on much the same lines as Camberwell.

Coming into Richmond

2011-09-17T23:02:00.003+10:00

East Richmond

2011-09-17T23:00:00.001+10:00

No trains stop at East Richmond, so I didn't either.

Burnley Station

2011-09-17T22:52:00.001+10:00

Gardiner Station

2011-09-17T22:44:00.006+10:00

This picture was taken at the point where the Burke Road tram crosses the Glen Waverly line, just before Gardiner Station.

Malvern East

2011-09-17T22:43:00.001+10:00

Anniversary trail

2011-09-17T22:23:00.009+10:00

After camberwell, I took the very pretty, but very under-used Alamein Line to its terminus and walked along the old Outer Circle line, now beautified at State expense as the Anniversary Trail. That is I walked until I heard the sound of the The Monash Freeway cutting through the Gardiner's Creek Valley, and then I was stopped by the bridge at Solway St. being washed away. I was in no mood for the detour that penetrated a fairy dell alongside the creek, and I am afraid I was short with the golfers barring my way to East Malvern Station.

Alamein Station

2011-09-17T22:22:00.001+10:00

Camberwell Station

2011-09-17T22:21:00.003+10:00

Camberwell station was next, and I especially wanted to photograph the long, deep curve that seems to go on forever when coming into the station; but the only good photo has a shunted train hiding behind hawthorn berries.
I remember when I thought that Camberwell was the most sophisticated station; I was impressed by the ultra modern walkways down to platform 1, complete with rockery. The station looks a little battered now, but better than in the 1980's when it and the shops on the high side were both decaying into quirkiness. Today you will never be far from coffee, shoes or sushi in Camberwell.

Flinders Street, again

2011-09-17T22:18:00.002+10:00

Royal Park station

2011-09-17T22:01:00.002+10:00

On Friday I began photographing train stations near my home with Royal Park Station; impressively maintained for the tourists visiting the Zoo, the station looks like it was only just built.

Clifton Hill Station

2011-09-15T22:44:00.002+10:00

Flinders Street

2011-09-15T22:42:00.001+10:00

Flinders Street from across the road in a sushi bar.

Anstey Station, on the Upfield line

2011-09-15T22:38:00.003+10:00

North Melbourne

2011-09-15T22:33:00.006+10:00

The first photo I took a few years ago with mere flukery, the second with a proper digital camera, but also by happy accident.

Stations

2011-09-15T22:24:00.005+10:00

I went out as far as Laverton today, to take pictures; I have been lent a digital SLR camera and I am trying to learn how to use it. So I have decided to try to photograph as many of Melbourne's Suburban Train stations in a week as I can manage. I'll put the interesting images up here. I am limiting my brief to those stations which appear in my Val Morgan Detailed Street Map of Melbourne, which, judging by the advertisements for Valiants and Drive In Theatres, was printed in the late 1960's.
In the coming months the stations I can't get to I will tell an autobiographical story about, or make up some alternative history, or draw the station; I've got a good drawing of Footscray, in a journal somewhere.

Reconnoitering

2011-09-14T11:35:00.005+10:00

Last night on a cold Melbourne evening I saw a man wandering up and down High Street Northcote clutching the front of his slightly too small short-sleeved shirt. I noticed he was also wearing jeans that didn't allow him to sit comfortably on a Tram stop and leave his arse unexposed to the chill northern breezes. Obviously an alien in a man-flesh suit, hastily acquired, a little too small; reconnoitering.

My Desk

2011-09-14T11:06:00.003+10:00

This is my desk whilst I was working on my large map of the inner city of Maversham. The spoon is an improvised burnishing tool I used to transfer the pencil on the back of the tracing paper image onto the posh paper. I was using the top of a biro, but a spoon proved more effective.

Eric & Elvis

2011-09-13T16:52:00.002+10:00

These are the sons of Sidonie.

Sidonie Frith

2011-09-13T16:50:00.003+10:00

U.S.I.S. Map

2011-09-13T16:40:00.004+10:00

Marvellous Maversham

2011-09-13T10:30:00.002+10:00

I am showing some of my pictures from the work I have been doing creating a world.
In the red room at the Brunswick Street Gallery in Fitzroy Melbourne. It will be on until the 22nd of September.

Hair

2011-07-28T14:54:00.002+10:00

In a meeting full of conflict and dissension, I draw an intricate hairdo.

Dream

2011-07-20T15:53:00.003+10:00

I am re-drawing some of the pages of my graphic novel; this is a reject drawing because I tore the paper whilst rubbing off the masking medium.

... also endpapers

2011-07-19T14:57:00.003+10:00

Zine

2011-07-19T14:37:00.002+10:00

I am making a small magazine of the All-Aloneo Archipelago pictures; this is the front cover.

Double-decker tram

2011-06-02T16:35:00.004+10:00

I should like to give the impression, or at least cause uncertainty in the minds of my viewers that Melbourne at one time was full of double-decker trams. Is it so impossible?

An Other tram

2011-06-02T16:31:00.002+10:00

I remember if no one else does the strange sight of the little yellow maintenance trams whizzing by late at night or early in the morning. What did they do exactly? Vacuumed up the sand from the trams' brake systems? Polished the rails? Who knows; they were cute.

A Tram

2011-06-01T09:38:00.003+10:00

Guns, eh?

2011-05-16T19:38:00.003+10:00

Well, I drew a bunch of AK47s during the Royal wedding, and the crowing about the murder of that man ... and there is actually no connection. I just thought I should draw something from a photo that I have no real knowledge of, and make it look pretty.

AK

2011-05-16T18:35:00.007+10:00

Guns

2011-05-03T12:29:00.005+10:00

A Drawing

2011-04-06T14:38:00.003+10:00

Dream

2011-04-03T14:08:00.002+10:00

I drew this in another fruitless meeting.
This is a character from a comic I am working on. I want to experiment with the way the character is drawn; playing with identity, perception and reality. This is probably how she would imagine herself, while others would perceive her as being harder and less dreamy.

In a frustrating meeting...

2011-03-29T13:46:00.004+11:00

I draw this.
It has been a bit of a frustrating week so far, actually. I left my folio at West Richmond station, and received less than helpful service from the Metro employee at Clifton Hill station; how surprising. Well, perhaps I shouldn't mock the intellectually disabled. I was advised to contact the Lotht Property Offith, but as it was after 5pm, I should try next morning. What are the chances of anyone handing in an art folio? Slim I would guess.

2011-03-17T14:47:00.005+11:00

Though not strictly situated in the All-Alloneo Archipelago, this lonely island with its handsome Irradiata Pine tree borders the huge and empty Pacific Ocean at its extreme eastern edge.

Flora of the Mysterious All-Alloneo Archipelago

2011-03-11T16:47:00.009+11:00

Melancholia Island has a beautiful stand of Bellus amicus, as well as a small jetty. An attractive wrought iron bridge connects this island to Abdominis Maximus which lies adjacent.

2011-03-11T16:45:00.007+11:00

The Archipelagos only 'desert' island, Infanta Utera has a single Iron Blood tree, Ferris mirmexas which is tended by Anonychomyrma ants. These fierce little ladies will attack with a burning substance anyone foolish enough to attempt to harm the tree.

2011-03-11T16:42:00.005+11:00

The twin islands of Dormir and Torpor are submerged at high tide. They are each blessed with a single mangrove tree of the species Mankus bubox which sweats at low tide a substance said to resemble overripe brie.

2011-03-11T16:39:00.004+11:00

A single and venerable tree graces the island of Doloris. It is the last remaining Crow Tree, Corvus perpetua, and is over 2,000 years old.

2011-03-11T16:36:00.007+11:00

On the island of Solus Surfexus a forest of Pinus adulata hides a ruined fortress reputed to date from the founding of the 1st Empire. It is haunted by the ghosts of men and women imprisoned there on their way to slavery and death in the Great South land.

2011-03-11T16:32:00.010+11:00

The trees of the Island of Sweetgrass are hollow and thus a disappointment to sailors wishing to re-mast a distressed ship after a storm or Kraken attack. The Felicita felicitus or 'Promise' tree however secretes a red, sticky sap which can be used as a tincture to relieve catarrh.

2011-03-11T16:31:00.006+11:00

The lagoon of the island of Love-In-A-Fog harbours a myriad of unusual and hideous aquatic life - which need not concern us. The forests of this island consist of the Violet tree, Vulvax argenta and an accompanying toadstool which is able to grow only in its shadow. The Death Brolley or Furled Fungus of Forgetfullness is hallucinogenic, lethal in even the smallest amounts and tastes like vanilla milkshake.

2011-03-11T16:30:00.005+11:00

This tropical tree on Memento Amori Island blossoms twice a year in May and September. It is named Rosicrucio and will cause extreme skin irritation if touched or even lightly brushed.

2011-03-11T16:28:00.008+11:00

The attractive curves of these Boh-Boh trees (Torticollis sp; Higgly-Piggly) were planted on Princess Charlotte Island by the explorer William Dampier's consort Prince Jeole in memory of his homeland and to provide food for migratory Puce Swallows.

2011-03-11T16:27:00.007+11:00

This single and excellent example of the Bonetown Bay Fig, Ficus macrocorpus on Scriptus Island can be seen appearing over the horizon like a large green cloud for many hundreds of miles; the white birds clustered about its abundant fruit like swarms of butterflies.

2011-03-11T16:24:00.007+11:00

Connected by a bridge to Melancholia Island, the hilly isle of Abdominis Maximus has a forest of Potato gums, Eucalyptus tuberosa and is a delightful place to rest, perhaps indulge in some improving literature, or even a short, restorative sleep.

2011-03-11T16:23:00.019+11:00

These three delightful isles, named for the three muses; Escophia, Lectia and Dormira each have a single example of the Giraffe tree, Cameleopardis perplexis, with its distinctive caramel coloured bark.

2011-03-11T16:23:00.016+11:00

These mysterious trees of the genus Fagus are called by superstitious sailors 'The Corpse-Finger' tree for their pale pink branchlets and the peculiar and revolting aroma of their flowers. This island is called Longtime Dead Isle after them.

2011-03-11T16:20:00.012+11:00

Peppermint Ice Gums, Eucalyptus glacies, grow on the land farthest south of the islands of the All-Alloneo Archipelago and can withstand extreme cold, occasionally freezing solid during the southern winter. In summer Jupiter Island is home to many peripatetic birds and bats, but during the winter months ice can stretch like a glittering bridge all the way to the unexplored (and largely theoretical) land at the South Pole.

North Melbourne Water Spirit

2011-02-15T17:12:00.006+11:00

A triangle of land; the island between Errol, Harcourt, Courtney and Harris streets in what seems like the lowest point of North Melbourne. Next to an electricity substation is a grate; always there is the sound of running water. By the bus stop there are three Moreton Bay Fig trees, giving the whole the feel of a billabong. If there is a water spirit in North Melbourne it would live here, and would be a little cranky.

New Years Resolution

2010-12-31T12:01:00.005+11:00

My New Years resolution is to re imagine the anti Christian philosophy of Nietzsche as tho that religion had never become the official State religion of Imperial Rome. Wish me luck!

... and Happy New Year.

Stencils

2010-11-19T20:59:00.004+11:00

I've been inspired by the vibrant street art culture in Melbourne to experiment with my vengeful insect ladies and try to turn them into stencils.

2010-11-19T20:56:00.001+11:00

Eternal

2010-11-19T20:04:00.002+11:00

Revenge

2010-10-25T12:24:00.003+11:00

The White Raven

2010-10-25T12:08:00.015+11:00

It was summer; early evening.
A voice: Save me.
I looked around. No one.
Again the voice: give me water!
Who is speaking? A scratchy voice, deep, husky.
Dry.
Of course! A tree.
Save me it says again. So I did. I am a Melbournian; I carry my water.
I pour a whole bottle of Mount Autumn spring water onto the roots of the tree. The water sinks into the ground with a sound not unlike gulping.
Thank you, says the tree.
I say; now what is my reward, talking tree? Riches beyond the dreams of Oil Barons? Beauty like the sun?
No, says the voice.
Oh well, I say.
…But, says the tree, if you take a jewel I have hidden in my roots you could undo a great wrong…
Better than nothing, I say.
… And save a beautiful princess, it finishes.
That’s more like it!
So I did as the talking tree advised. I found the jewel hidden in its roots. The tree explained where I should go and what I should do when I got there.

She is being kept in a cage like a beast.
The circus is closed. I have watched her for 3 hours, she neither moves nor speaks. When I try to address her she will not even look in my direction.
In a glass case next to her cage I see a sword. The hilt is of ivory carved in the shape of a raven. The eye is missing. The stone given to me by the tree begins to hum in my pocket.
I don’t know what came over me. The sound of breaking glass, of men running from all directions. I fit the jewel into its socket, and finally I seem to have her attention.
Give me the sword she says in a hoarse voice, unused to speaking. I pass it through the bars… and she passes the blade through the bars, melting them like butter.

Before I can say ‘enchanted sword’ three men are dead. I put my hand on her cold, scaly arm, and suggest we flee.
She agrees, we run, we hide.
Under a bridge, or perhaps it was a storm drain, she tells me she an exile from another world. Because she was born paler than most of her race she was hidden by her shamed parents until she was 13. Then, at play in the Royal gardens she was seen by some urchins and mocked. She flew at them and for the first time in her life found herself outside the Castle walls.
Alone.

As she stood amazed, those who lived clustered about the foot of the castle crowded around her, touching her pale hair, staring into her pale eyes. She retreated, terrified. But word of the royal freak spread.
They called her Alva Corvea: the White Raven.
A palace coup. They came for her at night; too many of them.
She escaped, with her mother’s enchanted sword, and her life, and ended up here.
She says; I have lost my parents, my people, my world. Many years have passed, and all of them hard years.

What will you do now? I ask. Return to your land and claim your lost throne, your inheritance?

No, she says.

I think I’ll open a bookshop in Carlton.

The White Raven

2010-10-12T10:09:00.004+11:00

This is a rough sketch of a character that will be appearing in something called "Paper Theatre" tonight at Kids In Berlin shop in North Melbourne. Bernard Caleo will be performing my short story and there will be accompanying illustrations. This will appear in this format after the exhibition is finished... and when I get a chance to scan them in. Today, for a short time, my work will be appearing in 4 (count them) four exhibitions.

Paper Theatre at KIB (http://www.melbournefringe.com.au/fringe-festival/show/paper-theatre)

Tiny Peeks at the Paramount Arcade (http://www.silentarmy.org/-tiny-peeks--2010.html)

Sweet Streets at Brunswick Street Gallery (http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=167756876568122&index=1)

and a student exhibition at my school: NMIT.

... I would say 'woo' except I can barely croak.

FYI

2010-09-13T14:00:00.002+10:00

Good/Bad Girls

2010-09-06T09:38:00.003+10:00

Grumpy

2010-08-31T15:43:00.003+10:00

I just had a perfectly nice cup of tea in a vegetarian restaurant in Smith Street. Not much of a range, but a porcelain pot and leaf tea, saggy couches and reasonable music. No Darjeeling or Irish Breakfast, and something called Melbourne Breakfast, which was described as fruity and flowery... ugh. Still, convivial, and not too pretentious.

The White Raven

2010-08-31T15:36:00.003+10:00

In less than a month, this character will be featuring in an exhibition for the Melbourne Fringe festival. Soon you will learn her incredible history, as drawn by me and performed by my dear friend and comic colleague Bernard Caleo.

Lousy Tea in the Home of Coffee

2010-06-26T16:25:00.012+10:00

In late breaking news it is still possible in Melbourne to be served a lousy cup of tea in an establishment that prides itself on the purveyance of fine caffeinated beverages.
On Friday I was in North Melbourne at Coffee Roasting Warehouse (yes I should have been warned) and was given a pot of warm water and a coffee cup with a tea bag in it. That it was raining, the place was full of children, noise and the sort of people who can afford to buy a house in inner Melbourne only added to my black mood.

A thousand years ago I lived on Victoria Street North Melbourne, just where the trams turn the corner into Errol St. The huge crack in the front window has been spakfilled and the back alley seems far too clean, but the trams are the same.

Also I am saddened to report the falling standards of Degraves Espresso Bar. When I first drank tea in the window and drew in the year 2000 the range of teas was staggering and all kept in stacks of recycled plastic containers. Now they are like every other temple to the roasted Bean and carry Earl Grey and English Breakfast. One still is served with extra hot water in a battered tin pot, but the English Breakfast is not a patch on the Irish, or a nice Darjeeling of a rainy Melbourne afternoon among the junkies and the rotting garbage.

2010-06-25T14:58:00.003+10:00

In a Forest...

2010-06-16T15:52:00.002+10:00

Kiss

2010-06-14T12:37:00.002+10:00

The City

2010-06-13T17:57:00.003+10:00

Autumn

2010-05-29T11:33:00.004+10:00

I think this is my favourite season. I am occasionally overcome by melancholy, but in Autumn this seems natural and right. In Summer sadness can seem so wholly out of place in this city where a celebratory, even giddy mood can predominate; even while the trees die. In Winter a gentle sadness can turn into a hopeless despair. Spring is such a contrary season; balmy breezes precede icy rain, and we must look to the skies and the dams so that there is no time for reflection.
In Autumn I walk the streets and alleys of my town, and dream.

Frank walks

2010-05-25T11:25:00.002+10:00

Threshold

2010-03-22T15:21:00.005+11:00

The Owl and The Pussycat

2010-03-22T11:36:00.008+11:00

Has anyone ever noticed that The Owl and The Pussycat by Edward Lear has no gender pronouns? I have done a few drawings for perhaps a version of the poem in which Owl is an older woman and Pusscat a younger man. They will meet in a container on the SS Verdigris and begin a torrid affair.

Insect Girl Sketch

2010-02-09T14:28:00.002+11:00

2010-02-09T14:24:00.001+11:00

Fear and Loathing at the Pinnacle

2010-02-08T15:04:00.004+11:00

Linden

2010-01-18T11:11:00.004+11:00

The Prancing Bitch

2009-11-28T11:09:00.010+11:00

I will admit it to you, dear reader; I am homeless. My beloved flat of ten years was sadly in need of renovations and richer, more respectable tenants ... according to the owner. So I have been looking for somewhere new to set up my desk, my bowed bookshelves, my mismatched teacups for 3 months. To this end, while thunderstorms threatened I wandered the streets of Footscray yesterday in search of a block of flats without;
a) two mattresses moulderating on the footpath
b) cracked and crumbling letterboxes with unclaimed, and perhaps never to be claimed letters carefully placed in holes in the brickwork.
c) a tasteful desert garden complete with dead palms and rocks just the right size for youthful hands
d) a certain smell; a meaty sort of decay, mixed with orange peel and motor oil
e) abandoned shopping trolleys.

You will not be surprised to learn I was unsuccessful.

Dejected, and nearly purple with heat stress I repaired to a most promising looking Cafe; The Dancing Dog. It was in an old building, overlooked the railway line and advertised itself as a gallery/cafe: what could be more loverly?
As a vagabond I must pay for the privilege of sitting down. If I don't want to be harassed by insects, drunks or babies, my choices are public transport, eatinghouses, Libraries, theatres. Sitting on the street or in a park leaves a woman liable to unkind comments and unwanted attention; take my word for it as a lifelong public wanderer.
'We only got teabags, so it wont be a pot of tea' the dreadlocked shortie advises me. What choice do I have, having already drunk two glasses of filtered water and found a spot in the coolest darkest room in which to collapse? When it comes, a teabag in a mug, the only thing that distinguishes it from Public Service teabreak is the fact that the mug doesn't have a witty saying on it, like 'you don't have to be a snooty bitch to work here, but it helps'.
The Enemy of the Bourgoisie says when she sees my expression 'don't do me no favours; you don't have to have it if you don't want it'. I say 'how much am I paying for this?'
'$3.00' she says.
I say 'milk?' I don't know what face I am making, but its the one that has made people be rude to me all day.
When she brings it she comments,'perhaps you've had a bad day, or are you just one of those naturally grumpy people?'.
Perceptive.
I say 'a bit of both actually, especially when I receive bad service'... but she has turned away, and to show her distain turns up the Reggae on the stereo and sings along.
The tea and the muffin are both unconsumable, and she begins mopping the floors with some noxious and noisesome substance, and my base temperature having gone down by a degree I wander out, $6.50 poorer.

2009-10-08T14:53:00.001+11:00

Places in Melbourne to be Alone

2009-09-28T14:36:00.005+10:00

Melbourne is so crowded, and at this time of year everyone seems to be wearing a brightly coloured scarf and a blooming red face; it is obvious that some sporting events are coming to a conclusion. Therefore it is even more important to find some solitude, some places (within walking distance of public transport) to be with oneself, and not screaming boofheads.

The North Melbourne Railbridge
This bridge between the Metropolitan platforms and the railyards is often deserted, but the best time to visit is dawn on a cloudy Tuesday; a vista of Industrial Melbourne opens up before one. Both the Bolte and the Westgate bridges, freight yards, the bustle of interstate rail, and a weak sun lightly touching the stunted weeds.

The End of Platform 2A at Southern Cross Station
Especially on a rainy Sunday. This Vicrail platform pokes out from under the wave-like roof at SthnCrss and into trainspottingland; I missed 2 trains yesterday watching shunting engines and departing intercountry trains. I found it very restful.

Point Gellibrand Coastal Heritage Park in a Howling South Westerly Gale
I went to Williamstown to look at the sea and walk about in the wind to give my melancholy a more romantic and picturesque aspect and was nearly blown back to Newport. Point Gellibrand has a long and sordid history and I was the only one there to enjoy it.

After that I went into the 'nice' bit of Willietown and managed to find an unpretentious cafe to have tea and cake. I was warm and tired and needed only a pot of English Breakfast and a muffin to make me happy; this is why we subject ourselves to physical stresses. My anxious heart was soothed by struggling against the freezing wind and by watching the boiling sea.

Outside my Window

2009-08-06T19:57:00.003+10:00

Waitresses

2009-08-06T19:46:00.006+10:00

Obviously I spend a lot of my time in Cafes. When not reading (or complaining) I am watching people. Alright! I am ogling the serving personnelle. Those who annoy me particularly might find themselves in my sketchbook; or maybe if they merely intrigue me I might draw them. But perhaps I draw comely waitresses to assert that I too matter, even tho I am not comely, or rich, or even very nice to those who serve me bad cups of tea.

A Tram

2009-04-19T15:53:00.005+10:00

Last night I drew this tram; a combination of a Melbourne Z class and a Brisbane tram from the 50's. Some evenings when I see my tram (the 55) going through the Royal Park it is possible to forget the sordid insides and boring passengers and imagine it is a fairy carriage twinkling through the trees.
I think I will make this picture (not quite as romantic as I intended) a cover illo for a guide to an imaginary city.

Fog

2009-04-18T14:04:00.003+10:00

Now that it is Autumn, finally, I am remembering that my city used to be blanketed by fog at this time of year. In my childhood the whole street would gather up the fallen leaves from the European trees and set fire to them. In my mind there is a picture of small columns of smoke from smoldering fires all along the gutter; so perhaps the 'fog' was actually smog.
I still miss it.

Linden Postcard Show

2009-04-09T10:14:00.005+10:00

Yesterday I was cheered by a delivery of about 100 postcards from Linden of my image of a wasp girl (very like the one below). The trams are small and smelly and rattle past like abandoned factories on wheels, full of selfish, miserable, ugly zombi, the busses are bursting with noisy children who have never been told how to behave in a confined space; every day I dry my hair with diesel fumes, and there is no truce in the war between me and my neighbours... but at least I have some nice postcards to give to my friends.