At Belgrave late afternoon, on the cusp of downpour and then it comes in a torrent––I think of Peter Weir’s The Last Wave (1977), in which Richard Chamberlain is driving through deluge in Sydney. I love Sydney. I love to drive in the rain. There is something profoundly enlivening about the car pummelled, the lack of visibility, the gutters erupting. And then the afterwards of the forest awash––high-spirited. We make it home intact. The children play benignly in the bath. It starts to hail. I run outside and gather up a handful of twenty cent coin sized hail stones. G eats them. He says he’s put the rain inside of him. M wants to eat the rain too, but G scoffs it all. M cries out––betrayed. G gives her a water kiss––spurts the water into her almost closed mouth, laughs. M splashes him with wild indignance.
Boundary Speak (Diaries 2013-2021) centrally focuses on reportage of my life’s happenings, notes on readings, phantasms or wild forays, riffs off music or footnotes from poems that take me on a strange journey and thought fragments. My outsider artwork is focal on my Re-learn your Alphabet for the Twenty-First Century drawings (some of which are collaborations with my children), my robot series, as well as many other drawings undertaken over the period 2013-2021.