my Grandmas linen

Her thick Polish slur still rings in my ears, despite not having lived near her some 20 years. Being away from her, my family would sit at the dinner table issuing funny slogans of hers in our best Polish-imbued Aussie twang, “Argh, my swveety-line!”.

My Babunia left Poland as the war drew to a close, around 1944-45. Due to her families wealth they had not lived the worst of the war in Poland but moved to Vienna, Austria to seek refuge. Yet they lost everything they had, which was quite a bit considering my great-grandfather owned a factory and ran a healthy sized business. This lead to the family’s relocation to Perth, with three grown children in tow, Victor, Richard and Halina along with a large faction of other Eastern Europeans displaced from their shattered homes and fractured cultures.

Halina was reunited with her old beau from Poland, Jurek (George). They married and settled in a migrant camp in the middle of the dry Australian bush of south Western Australia. A place so far from home, so unfamiliar.

Speaking no English and knowing no-one, this married couple kept living as they had in their homeland, where food and hospitality was a mainstay, nah, a requirement of living. So, Babunia cooked, baked and kept her house clean, not only in the 1950’s housewife tradition but also in her Polish tradition. She made cakes, hosted parties and slow cooked Goulash while Dziadzia worked hard, the kind of hard we don’t know today, as a fitter and turner. He would come home and listen to records or get together with his German friends and play old ballads of their homelands. Whether he was playing violin, accordion or piano – he had great joy making music, beautiful music.

So, I sit at this table now, that once was theirs, and with a wistful heart reminisce what this tablecloth beneath my arms has seen. The meals it has carried and the spills it has drawn to its core. I can still smell the starch and washing powder she washed it in for some thirty years, and see some of the remnants of food that she, (to her great shame) could not completely remove. I don’t mind the stains, or the broken lace on the fringe, because my Babunia and Dziadzia sat here, ate here and lived with this same linen.

Heirlooms can be weighty and can be trivial, but heirlooms can also be memory and sound and vision. It is the best when all of these come together in a full image of the people we know and knew. 

a.

. : heat energy : .

driving home from school this afternoon, with the windows down and the hot, hot air blowing past my face, i considered the power of this heat. the way that it has really dramatic affects on things; it's not just a temperature, but an energy source that has real time and place effects.

i was thinking about how timber and other materials expand and warp in the heat. the heat has the muscles to physically change such a solid material - but it can do it without the muscles. and how the heat casts its spell on our bodies; that with the same amount of sleep, food and drink we can feel so much more weary on a scorcher' than on a tepid day. you can see such fast effects on plants in hot weather too. mature leaf plants shrivel and crumble inward as if to writhe from the encasing heat.

its oppressive, i've decided. not in a completely negative way. but the way the heat pushes down on your shoulders like a heavy weight when you step out into it, really isn't that positive either. don't get me wrong, i love the heat. i am a summer girl. born and bred (literally). i guess it always happens, this time of year. we welcome, even if begrudgingly, the heat that is the Australian summer.

welcome, heat. i will escape you, momentarily - off to the water i go...

a.

. :glass: .

my good friend, one who has known me since my birth, and seen a lot of my junior years is a beautifully loving and creative woman, who i admire. on my recent trip West i visited her and saw her latest work (she is a glass artist who has worked with the magical material for over 25 years), and commissioned her with a piece for myself. i was so elated when it arrived in the post - and i haven't taken it off since. it hugs my wrist with a an appreciated weight, reflecting light and colour so vividly.

before i went on holidays, i had some time in the studio making some earrings and pendants for impending sales (i hope). here are some images...

with a necessary glass of wine...to get the creativity flowing.

a.

. - i'm on holidays - .

busselton beach

...yes i am. and loving every minute. i've been tripping around perth, fremantle, busselton and other amazing south west locales enjoying everything good that has been carfted; art, beverages, food, pottery - but no wine yet (something still to do).

yesterday i ate venison cappaccio, with pickled beets, capers & truffle oil at The Studio Gallery in Yallingup. oh my oh my, i'm on holidays in my homeland!

i wish you all a trip to the south west of this great land, soon - very soon.

a.