Thursday, June 25, 2015

Our Highlights, in low light.

The light up close, we could see this light on Maria Island and from the house in Blackmans Bay.

In action:  You hold onto the monitor and the lights adjust to your heartbeat.

Buildings involved were red light to go with the festival colors.  We had a crescent moon and both Venus and Pluto were visible as twilight began.
 There were bars set around so people were never far from a warm drink.
I think if I was not from California, where natural gas plants are scattered by the road side that the gas organ would have been a bit more impressive-
I am not saying it was un-impressive, I am just not into adding such a industrial piece of art on a gorgeous waterfront...

The festivals MONA has put on, really are invaluable.  I am really sad I missed out on Diamanda Galas last year- and I am happy I stayed long enough to experience the festival this year, as I don't know when I will have time to do this again.

"...There ought to be a moonlight savings time..." or Hey, What happened to those 3 Fridays in June 2015?

I am having a slow start.  The first alarm that I consciously acknowledged this morning, was after 9 a.m.
Our winter has turned to warm sunshine after a week of record breaking cold days with many snowy days on Mount Wellington.  I should create a few posts to cover the the events of the last few weeks but as this has become simply my illustrated calendar, there is no need.

I went back to Maria (my fifth trip!)  because a few volunteers had to back out at the last minute.  The workshop accom. that I stayed in three times this year is now actually clean.  Also, windows fixed and washed, re-painted, re-varnished, new furniture.  I am actually feeling a bit jealous of everyone who will get to sleep there before I do.  I did get to ride in the Rangers boat, go out back China Beach, and stay in one of the Bernacchi Houses which is a marker of a white settler that really thought he was going to turn Maria Island into some sort of Riviera of the South.  

During that trip, the Dark Mofo festival had already began, although my plans were not to go until the last weekend.  As my faithful festival guest was away in the early part of the festival.
The festivals that I have gone to- have all been incredible the way they take over the city center and waterfront.  A lot is free, making the place feel like a city that always has that artistic life running through it, a bit like New Orleans, or parts of New York and Chicago- yet Hobart is very unlike any of those cities.

I am also having one of my 'the machines revolt' that would all be fix I am sure simply by Zok's proximity- which is not, currently possible.

I leave for Stockholm soon, where Zok will not be-
such is the bane of flux that is touring.

Maria Island; The revamping of the workshop accomodations

This job was much bigger than I thought it would be.
We did not have the island to ourselves, as the subsidized ferries are running-
The nights were very cold.
Dark Mofo started while we were on the island, and we could see the heart monitor light all the way out on the island.
We stayed in one of the Bernacchi houses-
They are charming but as the cold sets in, the high ceilings and misplaced fire places seem less so.
 I find it strange that so many people raised both wool, and built houses and yet never thought to insulate.  Of course, I know I am saying this completely out of context for the time and place.
I also watched the local news (as my house mates wanted to and I was sleeping in the front room)-
It was an interesting contrast to see how the festival looked from afar, and then get to experience the festival-
By this I mean-I feel I have to acknowledge my own weaknesses that cause me to miss places when I am not there-
doing so is mostly just a waste of time and skewed by ones own feelings.

Although, Tasmania has the magic that it has, the sound of the ocean, the bright night sky.
Our house filled with our books, and music and always providing something to do.

 I came to find that each house does come with it's own wombat.