For weeks I worked on a large drawing, used up a couple of coloured pencils, kept trying to find a way to make it work but it was just throwing good time after bad.  There comes a point when I just had to say it's crap and it's always going to be crap.  So I burned it.

What a relief!  As soon as the paper charred and smoke curled up the chimney a weight lifted.  Sometimes I think the credo to reduce reuse and recycle weighs too heavily so that any art work attempted has to be worthy.  Sometimes frankly, it is not.  Just have to let it go and let go of the demands on myself for *perfection*. 

Art is an exploration, my exploration of my world and myself.  It isn't good or bad, it just is.  I'm not making it for some art buying public, it's not going to a gallery, or even a show (although I have shown).  Of course I'd be lying if I said I didn't care about it not pleasing others.  It's wonderful when someone likes my work.  One highlight of that horrible night when R fainted and the ambulance was called was the enthusiasm of one of the paramedics for  my work.  Such a strange sensation to be chuffed on the one hand and worried on the other.

So I burned that last work and have started on another, shown below.  This photo, taken from our new phone, is a practice run.  Trying to learn how to take photos with the phone and also how to save them onto the computer.  So it's not a great photo but it gets the idea across.  The drawing is coming along.  Hope to upload a finished version - made more difficult because we don't have phone reception here so must take the photo then go elsewhere to send it to myself. 

 

But I do like this drawing.  Unlike the previous one.  If I don't muck it up.

Despite best efforts, sometimes a drawing is a dud.  Had some hope that the pencil drawing I was working on would come out okay but finally admitted that there was no saving it.  Unfortunate and a bit sad but there you go.  I'm my own best fan too so it's saying something when I don't like something I make.  I try to create work that I like, that I like to look at, that I like to have around me.  Not this one. 
     The weather has been severe (climate change nay sayers take not!).  This summer has been the hottest on record.   Not a dry heat but a humid heat which is enervating in the extreme.   I have done one ink sketch and started  a pastel of aerial view of clouds over red sands which I'm excited about.

The above was written a few days ago.  Thought I'd download a couple of photos to show what I'd done, especially the pastel.  But I couldn't.  I've downloaded before, not without trepidation for the exact reason as what happened, or more precisely, what didn't happen. 
       Why, when I've transferred, rather imported, photos from the camera on to the computer wouldn't it do so then?  I searched everywhere, pounded every button.  I even downloaded Picasa again.  I could find photos, all the photos I have reluctantly taken over the years but I couldn't get the camera and the computer to talk to one another.  Finally, after madly pushing buttons like the thousand monkeys trying to rewrite Shakespeare through eternity, I hit the correct one.  The computer had decided it wouldn't talk to Picasa anymore and had somehow reverted to Windows - which hadn't lifted a kilobyte finger except to point the middle one at me.
       I loathe digital cameras.  I don't like looking at photos on a monitor.  I don't like the pain in the ass process of trying to organize them.  I don't like anything about the digital photograph.  My old 1978 Olympus OM 10 suits me just fine.  I'd rather hand a roll of film to some pimply faced clerk in the supermarket and get an envelope, fat with possibilities, returned a few days or a week later.  I like waiting to see the results.  I like finding a photo that exceeds expectations and I am content with the duds.
      Tried to explain this to a keen photographer friend.  She didn't understand.  At all.  Why walk when you can drive?  Why cling to the stone age when the digital age is so much better?
      Stress.


     

A Doggone Week

The dogs have been gone a week today. Ads came out in the Lost section of the two local newspapers yesterday. It's getting more difficult to be upbeat. Coincidentally, when checking that our notice was in the Star saw an ad for three male whippet puppies, $250 each. We have decided not to get another dog if Radar and Jamaica don't return.

After getting the computer up after the crash I downloaded yWriter again. Have a couple of projects in mind. One of which is to tell the story of the cats I have known. That idea came after reading about Norton, the Scottish Fold that turned a cat hating man into a felinophile. Unfortunately, as usual, the name of the book and author are forgotten. Gave the book to someone else. Anyway, some amazing cat characters have shared my life since I was literally in the cot. They deserve to be recorded, if only for my benefit. The other idea is an article for yoga magazine about cats and yoga but I'm not so keen on that. Then discovered that yWriter wouldn't work. Don't know why. The cursor is there fluttering away but nothing writes. Went to the instruction page, can't see what I'm doing wrong.

So here I am finally hot to trot and haven't the means to start writing. Of course I could use the office software but it just isn't the same. Did a search for free writing software and found WriteMonkey. It's the zen writing software, very little in the way of bells and whistles and when you write, it's full screen so it's just you and your thoughts. A nice lime green script on a black background. So I've started writing.

I hope that because I'm writing about cats for me that I won't get bogged down in the writing itself. I sabotage myself to the point of catatonia because something I'm working on isn't perfect (or as near as I can make it). It's a sad trait to have for rather than do something that isn't good, I'll reserve my high opinion of myself and do nothing at all.

Speaking of which, the latest drawing project is crap. Started with this amazing dream image and wound up with something that is so far removed from it in scope and detail as to be laughable. Want to draw something because I feel good when I'm drawing but I want it to be from my imagination, not copying photos from a book. I know that's crap too as anything worked on will teach me something but it's a quirk I kind of cherish. I have copied things from books, have quite a nice drawing of a hyacinth parrot that I copied from a parrot magazine - but it's still someone else's idea and work that I'm drawing (?) from. Sometimes when I'm drawing I can clearly see the image in my mind and so the drawing itself comes along. Other times I need a model, it's there but it's not there.

Up early this morning, now it's light enough to feed the birds and do the chores. It's rained a little overnight and another light shower just passed over. With every turn of the weather I think of the dogs. Jamaica feels the cold and hates the rain. Radar is a bit more rugged. I hope they are okay. I wish they'd come home.

Fog tracing fingers over the ridges. Nineteen millimetres of rain yesterday afternoon from a noisy storm. Lots of thunder and lightning, some of it very close so that the flash and the bang were one. The verandah birds were unsettled but the horses, standing on the ridge of land surrounding the new lake, didn't even twitch.

It's been too hot to do much of anything. 36 yesterday. Did a little drawing but the heat is so enervating that even my mind has difficulty engaging. The length of the drawing board laying across my bare legs, keeping what little air there is from reaching my skin makes me even hotter. All I can do, along with R and all the animals, is wait it out.

Hugo, one of the greenies, even lies down on his stomach in the corner of the cage and pants. R saw him on his back once. The first time I saw this I thought he was sick but it's just his way. He looks like a little green quail. Speaking of his quail-like qualities, he hasn't grown any flight feathers since he's been here and was even losing feathers on his head. I started to think the worst but his head feathers are regrowing and they look normal so there's hope. I don't want to have to put him down.

The new drawing has had a difficult gestation. I did a series of thumbnails as inspiration, unlike the previous two drawings, was absent. Suppose it was too good to be true, those previous two drawings. Thought creativity was going to roll out of me.. Then there was nothing. Not a nice feeling. Even took to drawing lines with my eyes closed to see if anything suggested itself. Finally, something did. Although it's early stages, barely more than a line drawing, I like it. It's of a sleeping woman with her hand draped over the back of a sleeping cat. I love the hand. I've always loved hands. It's one of the first things I notice about people after their eyes. It's sinuous and soft and quite beautiful, even if I do say so myself. At least the outline of it is. Whether it will remain beautiful as the drawing progresses remains to be seen.

Have meant to say in previous posts that Cornelius is fine. He's singing again and dashing from one end of the verandah to the other. I'm still treating all of them with coccivet. He had to have picked it up from Tony as he was the only new ingredient to the mix and Tony did have coccidiosis. Because Cornelius was such a healthy bird, never having a days illness after his wing was taped, it took a long time to incubate. What threw me too was that until the very end, when he was weak and I believe near death, his faeces remained normal. I don't have a microscope to examine faeces. Tony's faeces are still a bit soft and when he's on my finger and I hold still and watch him he will close his eyes for a second or two. That's not normal. He's been on coccivet off and on his entire short life but what choice do I have. Tony eats well, flies well, is always cranky in the morning, like Jake, and seems to have energy and vivacity – but I don't believe he's 100% either. It was a mistake to treat Cornelius with Flagyl when he didn't have trichomoniasis but the state of his faeces is what put me off. The turn around came when he was directly dosed with coccivet. It was a joyful day the first time I saw him eat a few seeds, with his poor heavy head hanging over the cup, but at least he was eating. Now you wouldn't recognise that he'd ever been sick.

The flood disaster still holds most of Queensland, parts of Victoria, NSW and Tasmania in its thrall. Brisbane is mopping up but most of the CBD is back to work, the markets have reopened and power is being restored to most homes. Some homes will be destroyed as the damage was too great. Grantham residents were allowed to return home yesterday. Twenty people are dead and another 12 are missing still. A couple of days ago we walked to the end of DGR. The road at the far end has been completely destroyed. It has been sliced in half by a new creek, about 16 feet wide and 6 feet deep. The residents have cut a 4 wheel drive track through a paddock but they have no phone, no power and no chance of getting same for quite a while. Someone told them to evacuate as the road would not be repaired but I don't believe they can do that. At least five families live there. It's just going to take a while. We aren't going to repair fences until the rainy season is over.

OBEs, the search for and the Usual Stuff

R gone to Brisbane today. Miss him but lovely to have an entire day stretch before me on my own. And it's a beautiful day. Have already taken the whippets for a walk (nice alliteration there). No longer try and get Radar to stop pulling. He's got to figure out that pulling results in pressure on his nose from the Halti. My hand may give out before he does. You'd think that he'd realise that the reason the strap pushes on his nose is because he's pushing against it. When he doesn't pull it instantly releases. There are times that he doesn't pull, when he's very interested in something he sees, when he turns his head to the side to look at Jamaica, when he stops to poo or pee. But no, not yet. He's not a stupid dog, just a very enthusiastic gung ho dog.

Natalia, I'm glad to say, has had her second night in a row without wetting the bed. She is now allowed in the bedroom. There have been no accidents in two days and she trots off to her litter tray when she's got to go. She does appear to have cat flu but as we've started her on vibravet it hasn't got the best of her. Her eyes water in the morning and evening, just like a human with a cold who feels the effects worse at those times, but there was only one sneeze yesterday and none today, so far. She's a delightful little cat, full of personality and big purrs. Matisse is almost playing with her now. There have been a few half enthusiastic games of chase and even Nairobi watched without hissing and departing.

Jack has been started on pellets again. No, let me rephrase that. Jack has pellets instead of seed this morning. He's not eating the pellets, only the sun and safflower seeds in it. Made a mash of the pellets and mixed the seed in while scattering a few sunflower seeds on top like nuts on a chocolate cake. Before I made rissoles with pellets and seed and he just threw them on the ground. This time I made it like a pie crust, flattening the mixture on the bottom of his dish. When I went to see how he was doing he had pellet crumbs around his beak which means he's had to have tasted the pellets. We'll get there. Had to give up trying to convert him when he hurt his toe and went back on antibiotics. There's such a thing as too much stress and infection and diet change is too much. But now that he's back to reasonable health we'll have another go.

The diet of sunflower and safflower seeds with some apple and corn is NOT good. Pellets on their own aren't good either but at least there are vitamins and minerals in the pellets that he needs and he isn't gorging on oil which his poor liver can't process. If he, no, WHEN he converts to pellets he'll view sunflower seeds more avidly which will mean better results in c/t.

End of the day. Have done alot of work on current drawing. Slowly making headway. Wish I was more talented, had more technical expertise, had more reference drawings! R noticed the difference (he's home after a day flailing away at a rogue bougainvillea).

There's a theme with my drawings which I've only just started to notice. I've never been able to attain it but I try to depict the drawing as though one is looking through a dimension, or better said, through someone's eyes. There's often one or more horizon lines, even if only vaguely noted, and a yearning to see a picture through a frame of some sort. That's badly put but there's an attraction about seeing a particular scene as though through two points of view, one inside the other, like those Russian dolls. Except for copying something, almost all my drawings, even the old ones tip the hat to that desire. I think it stems from that strong sense of someone, the real me, seeing me and my life through my eyes. Me and Not Me.

Reading a book about a man who explored other dimensions a la Robert Monroe. He makes reference to Carlos Castaneda books in which Juan Matus instructs Carlos to look for his hands in dreams so that he may lucid dream. Haven't read the Castaneda books since high school but I was much taken with them then except for the peyote button bit. Was very scared, and still am, of hallucinogens of that strength. Anyway. This guy (too lazy to get up and get the book to record name and title) also talks about the buzzing sound which is accompanied by the sense of being frozen. Monroe says that's a precursor to an OBE. I found them quite scary (odd that I haven't experienced one in years). The most disconcerting part of the most recent albeit distant experiences was the maniacal laughter which accompanied the buzzing and the immobility.

Fern, the Hahns Macaw and Time

Well, I'll be darned. It's worked. In the past I have tried to upload photos to the blog and have had no luck at all. Time outs, sullen refusals,' no speaka da inglis' - so much so that I gave up. The moon must be in the right quarter (waning) for here is Fern in all her pink glory sitting on the fence. Despite the appearance of that little cleft in her chest she is not overweight (not like some galah I could mention, mmmm Marvin?). It's a trick of the light for although she cannot fly (broken right wing, you can see it hangs strangely, broken at the joint), she is an active little thing and keeps her girlish figure.

Fern was the first galah who came to live with us. She was a young adult, not a juvenile and she taught me an awful lot about birds and galahs in particular. She took a long time to convince that we were actually on her side and wouldn't hurt her. Had her in a cocky cage set up in the dining area. I tempted her with sunflower seeds on a wooden spoon. Eventually she came around and although she is very opinionated and will nip without hesitation to show her displeasure, she is also very affectionate. It is only in the past year that I have been able, sometimes, to touch her anywhere but her head. I'm not sure but I think she's lived with us for about 9 years.

When we sit in our chairs with our respective drinks in the late afternoon after the chores we allow all the galahs out of the aviaries to have a pick and an explore. Marvin always bustles over first to have a preening session. Because he is so aggressive to the other birds he has to live in an aviary by himself. His aviary is right next to the 'girls' (although Obama is male, the only male living with the girls, we call it the girls, perhaps because he was the last addition) so he can see them. But he has no one to preen him. When he's had enough he asks to be put down on the ground and then, if Fern is nearby, she lifts her skirts and runs toward me. It's not that she's so anxious to see me, Fern is just a sprinter in spirit. She is the fastest galah on foot I've ever seen - and it does look as though she lifts her skirts (wings) so that they won't impede her while she gallops. The others just run without any rearranging of wings.

I have finished the Hahn's macaw and will try to get a picture of it up here tomorrow. I have it in the office with me now. It's at the stage that while it is *finished* I have to live with it awhile to see if any bits stand out as unfinished, overdone or incorrect. So far so good. Although it is a drawing from a picture and not something out of my head, I am well pleased with it. It has taught me alot about looking. I have a new appreciation for the feathering of my own birds and see them in a new more informed light.

Because I retire in 9 months I have been thinking about forming good retirement habits. It's been many years since I haven't worked. I have fallen into the trap of defining myself by my job and have worried a little about the bruising to my ego when I can no longer say I am a vet nurse. Ridiculous I know but there it is. There were times in my life when I didn't work and the days were filled with creativity. I painted and wrote and never seemed to waste time as I seem to now. Using free time well takes discipline. I could fritter it away with frothy busy-ness or use it constructively. Sometimes I get a sense of the fragility of life. It is a miracle that I'm alive, even for this brief butterfly wing beat of life. How many billions of people have lived before me who no longer draw breath? With a few rare exceptions they are forgotten, dust motes in a sunbeam. And I will join them. If there is something after death will I remember this life and berate myself for having taken it so lightly? Acting as though I would live forever and have all the time in the world? It is patently obvious I won't. Obvious now that I'm on the downward track. I suppose it's a part of aging that you think about time running out. Seems that almost every day R has another story about someone he knows ill or dying or dead. Our peers are starting to drop.

Redecorating the Bird Verandah

Have spent most of the day rearranging the verandah. Yesterday Dimitri managed to climb atop Tachimedes cage. He stayed there all day and all night. It is so high that I didn't dare approach in case he took fright and jumped. He would've surely done himself an injury. Finally I managed to place a wooden ladder on the lip of the entrance and he came down looking for food (I couldn't feed him and he had to be content with budgie seed).

That was it. If he did it once he would do it again so things had to change. I'd been thinking about moving the littlies cages to the opposite end of the verandah anyway as I wouldn't have to pass him on his tree perch to replenish food and water. Today seemed to be the day. Unfortunately R was away and I had a heck of a time getting Tach's huge cage onto the 'art' table (a large, tall table that can be tilted up to support artwork. R built it for me while we were still in Tasmania. It took up practically all of the office and as I am using a portable board for my artwork rather than the table so it has been relegated to the verandah). Anyway, I wound up removing the seed skirt and the wheels (can't have a wheeled object on a table). Then I was confronted with the sharp table legs. How could I get this cage up without scratching everything. Ended up covering them with hankies and rubber bands. A girlie solution but effective. Leaned the cage against the table and pushed, turned it on its side and pushed again - with hip and arm - it was bloody scary as it is so heavy and unwieldy I thought I'd either drop it or have it come crashing down on me. Looking at it now I am amazed I managed to get it there.

But there it is and there it stays. The unfortunate thing is the little birds are befuddled. Where are there homes? They are sleeping rough as neither of them came to the cages for their evening feed and snooze. Tomorrow I'm sure they'll figure it out. Tach had an idea but this tall looming dark thing (half of it is covered in sheet so he feels protected) was just too much for him. Cornelius didn't even try. Corny is on the tree perch ladder and Tach is pressed against the ceiling on the old clothesline. Dimitri was the least upset. While I was trying to coax Tach and Corny into their 'new' homes, he came sidling over looking for treats. Not bad. Actually he took the upheaval quite well. I made sure I moved slowly and backed off if he showed signs of stress yet I think he's starting to realize that he will never be pushed too far by me. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. One incident tonight comes to mind. I pushed the coop cup on the floor, it made a sound, Tach panicked and flew off and Dimitri, in trying to fly off, did a complete flip!

Since writing here Dimitri and I have made tiny advances. I can sit in a chair by the feed table and he'll come and get millet sprigs. At first he'll run to the far end of the table to eat but with each treat he'll move less and less until he's only turning his body. That's a good thing. With the introduction of the chair we had to back up a bit as he was nervous (again) about taking treats from my fingers but we've done that again too so it's all good.

I am working on a pencil sketch of a Hahn's Macaw and am really pleased with its progress. It's probably about 3/4 finished. Some of it, especially the eye and beak, really 'leap' out at the viewer (methinks). I wish I could imagine that and then imagine the detail but frankly I would never be able to draw the feathering, the beak, the eye, the feet without a reference photo. Or real life but just don't think Dimitri (or anyone) would stand still long enough, with the light from the same angle, etc. for me to do it. Still, I have learned and am learning a lot about feathers, beaks, legs etc. and if I can create something from my head in the future (I really don't like copying, it seems such a cop-out) it will come in handy.

Dimitri Breakthrough and Pencils

Somehow life seems to be coming together a bit. I've taken myself in hand and decided that I didn't like not liking myself much. So much easier to live with myself when I'm being creative, taking care of myself and making progress in areas of my life that matter to me. I'd started to slide off with the yoga on my days off. Too easy to sleep in then, once I did get up, the birds and other creatures needed breakfast and then once that was done the day was off and running. Now I set the alarm and even if I sleep in for another half hour I'm still up at 5:30 which gives me 30 minutes of yoga. I've noticed that days which start with yoga are better days.

Hate to admit this but I'd backslid with the spider solitaire (like talking about heroin addiction or something). I still had it on the start menu and was occasionally playing the odd game. Then the odd game became a couple of games and so on until I was playing it with closed my eyes at night. Time to stop. I removed the game from the hard drive. The relief was and is palpable.

I've finished the Parrot LLP mini-lessons and will soon start the course. Had a huge breakthrough with Dimitri. Two breakthroughs actually. The first one was taking a treat from my hand. I've fed him treats before but it was always me going towards him with it so he could reach it. No wonder he snatched and ran. This time I'm standing at the end of the food table with the millet sprig in my outstretched hand. After a warm up period in which he came closer and closer he finally took it. His choice. Him coming to me. The first few times he ran to the end of the table to eat it but yesterday he was moving only a few inches away. I'm really happy about this as I see it as a major hurdle. His choice. It explains a little why he was so inconsistent with treat-taking before. I always had to step towards him to give it and even though he wanted the treat I was still advancing into his territory or safe space. Now it is entirely his choice to take the treat or not. Total freedom.

The other breakthrough is him eating from the seed bowl while my fingers are touching it. For quite a while now he has been eating from the seed bowl while I sit beside it. I'm only half a foot away. He's nervous at first but then relaxes and eats without raising his head from the bowl. I've even practiced moving my hands about; putting a strand of hair behind my ear, wiping my brow, scratching my leg - moving my hands slowly but making the movements big. He's coped with that very well. But he hasn't coped with my hands anywhere near the feed bowl. I can have them folded in my lap (we're on the floor) but I can't even extend a finger to the rim. Then I could. He was far more nervous to begin with but eventually settled and ate normally. Happy Day!

KL told me a story about her corella. She's had him for 18 months or so. He was always very trusting and affectionate; loved cuddles, being carried about and made a fuss of. Last Australia Day KL went away with her family. A trusted family friend fed the birds while they were gone. KL has implicit trust in this person and knows she wouldn't have done anything to the corella yet when they returned home the bird was afraid, nervous and wanted nothing to do with KL. In the intervening year KL has tried hard to win back his trust. He was like Dimitri; taking a treat then running with it. Very anxious. Then last week she held her finger up, stroked his breast and said 'up', like she always did. He hesitated then leapt onto her chest and buried his head under her chin. He cuddled for an hour and a half and again the next day.

It just goes to show how highly strung corellas can be. Dimitri is entirely different from the galahs and from S. C. Cockatoos I've known. I should do some work with Obama, teach him to step up, etc. As it is all he wants is head scratches. It wouldn't take long for him to be completely trusting and tame - but I'm not that committed to the time it would take as there are other things I'd rather do - like cuddle Marvin, Mr. Cuddle Himself. But it just illustrates how trainable and trusting galahs can be with just a little input. Dimitri is an entirely different kettle of fish. Perhaps it's because besides being wild caught he is an adult. I have no way of knowing. Yet, despite the time and setbacks and dumb moves on my part, we are making progress.

I hoot before going onto the verandah. Trying to imitate his hoot. It's a nice way to warn him I'm coming out as well as being, I hope, a contact call that reassures him. I have noticed him softly hooting a response a few times and that warms the cockles of my heart.

Have also reignited my interest in pencil drawing. I've always loved pencil drawing for its own sake. Did a little web searching and have found some absolute masters like John S. Gibb, (http://www.johnsgibb.com), who are inspiring in what can be done with the pencil. I've done alot of colour work but somehow, perhaps because I'm not technically proficient with colour and how colours relate together I seem to get into more strife. I have done some good colour work, but I do love the simplicity of pencil. Looking at Mr. Gibb's work, especially the otters, there's something more real and otterlike about those drawings than I think would be possible to convey with colour. And because I'm not always having to make colour decisions, drawing with pencil is more relaxing. I want to work and don't dread it. If I make a mistake I can erase it. With colour it's not always that easy to fix mistakes.