Making Friends With The Neighbours

My favourite things begin to meld into each other...

I had a day-dream recently. I was walking home along the river when an image, an event, filled my thoughts. It wasn ’t a memory, more like a hypothetical… I was in my wetsuit, board under my arm, running down to the water. I could see the waves, long and perfectly formed, and was excited to get out there. I hurried down the shore and just as I felt the wet sand sink beneath my feet and the water wash around my ankles… I tripped on my leggie . One minute, I was running and smiling and excited, the next I was face down with a mouth full of sand and humiliation. The legrope was twirled around my ankles, stringing them together, binding me. My board was caught under my arm, the pressure pressing back on both my board and my shoulder. Creased? I tried to shift my arm. My hair was plastered across my eyes, there was a dull ache in my lower back. The water washed under me, filling my face with sand, sucking at my body. I lay there, still. Ashamed. Numb. All the excitement vanished. I

Featuring Jeff Raglus, Ben Waters, Gerry Wedd and Chris De Rosa. This is opening at the Nine Lives Gallery tomorrow night. If you're keen, you can RSVP on their Facebook page . I am so there!

I'm really stoked to have just collaborated with Joni Sternbach on a submission for the online art journal, Trickhouse . As you know, I am a massive fan of Joni's images, so to be invited to work with her was a real pleasure and something I'm quite proud of. Anyway, you can check out Joni's photos and my essay, 'Across The Water', here at Trickhouse .

This morning I was drowning. After my alarm woke me I had hit it off, rolled over and briefly fallen back asleep. According to my clock it was only for ten minutes, but in that small amount of time I was suddenly under water, under waves, held below, straining for air. Lost between sleeping, waking and surfing. Somewhere, I knew I was dreaming. But I was mixed and confused and refusing to let go of it all. Somewhere, I was calming myself; Just. Breathe. In. But my dreaming mind and body was under water and flailing. I never caught a wave, I never fell, but was simply under. The water was clear and white and fizzing around me. I was waiting for the pull of a leash on my leg, but it never came. I was waiting to hit the bottom to recoil and push towards the surface, but I never reached it. I was fighting against water that provided no resistance, no potential for power. In that irritating way of dreams, I was both doing and watching, drowning and observing, sinking and floating