The water continues to rise in Brisbane and, being married to a mediaman, I am flooded with the weight of it. I struggle with how removed I remain.With the paradox of natural disaster.
In my hot, dry home, I run the ebb and flow of days and nights with three sick children, nothing serious except for my nerves and lack of sleep. And the greyness of doubt.
An afternoon working in the studio saves me from running so far inward I that can't see.
Instead I name what I can see in the swell of BIG doubt:
I am concerned with the lack of rigour in some of my posts,
the lack of distinction,
the occasional school project feel of it,
the small flock of birds flying,
the rejection in the form of quiet reply. (This is not a performance)
With the volume of silence,
the hesitation in posting hesitation,
the sharing of not knowing and uncertainty,
the confusion of double platform and duel audience,
the possibility that I am investing too much in a distraction (from my own future).
With the lack of time,
the fallout of expectation,
the conflicting reality of transparency and self censoring,
With the question of value, and reason,
the accumulation of relentless flying lessons,
the repeated crashing into runway,
the lack of auto pilot.
And then I fall into the relief of realising I have lost my way in the night, and that most days I have no map nor compass here. I am forced to let go of the micro-detail of the researcher in me. The academic. I accept that there is too much information here. I accept I do not know most of it. I fly anyway.
So right now, I post what I am sure of; the collaboration between Lilly and I. The stories we are writing and imaging as we go, the creation of them as miniature limited edition books within the pages of the magazine. The collection. And this particular one, we introduce below: Boatbird, originally an idea of a friendship between a boat and a bird dreamed by Lilly, to which I responded to by falling in love with this deeply felt bird over the original one. Between the idea and the response, a platform of collaboration and process was born. The words and imaging of Boatbird fly in response to what we hear, in response to children who are thrown against rocks, in response to things much bigger than doubt.