September 29

The folks at Inspire Me Thursday offered a Daily Photo Project for this week's challenge. Here's my contribution.

September 28

EDM Challenge #18: Draw the view from your window. In another day or two, the view will be of a plum and apricot tree, and a bird bath. I can't wait.

September 27

In the foyer at Hennegan they have three large, framed displays of old wood type. I love that stuff. Coincidentally, when I was at the last printer's in Dallas, my rep took me down into the now-abandoned letterpress department and let me pick out a few pieces of wood type from the ancient type trays. Here's what I got ... lucky me :-)

September 26

The Cincinnatian Hotel, built in 1882. All was going fine till I got to the arch, when I realised that the picture was too skinny for its height. Oh well. EDM Challenge #29: Draw something architectural.

September 25

EDM Challenge #85 ... kinda ... not a store, but a restaurant across the road from my hotel in Dallas. I ate Indian food there last night, and it was delicious.

Tomorrow morning I leave for Cincinnati. Oh how I miss my family and my bed.

September 24

Today's free time -- the last I'll have for a few days -- was spent at the rather disappointing Dallas Museum of Art. There wasn't a lot that moved me there. Extensive exhibition space is currently devoted to a Richard Tuttle retrospective. I'm sorry, but I just don't understand why this guy is considered an important artist. When I see a big exhibition like his, I wonder anew how one comes to be taken so seriously when one's art is so ... insubstantial. Ah well, one of Life's Big Mysteries.

I had a raging headache and thirst (which no doubt did not improve my generosity of mind) but the museum café was already closed, and the surrounding downtown area was of course dead on a Sunday afternoon at 5, so the staff suggested I catch the McKinney Ave Trolley uptown. A pleasant though noisy ride ensued. Finally, my thirst slaked and some food in my tummy, I got my bearings and walked the mile or so back to my hotel.

September 23

Spent a few hours at the very lovely Dallas Arboretum this afternoon, where I was entranced by shapes, and kids.

September 22

My print rep here, Steve, has a 13 year old son whose band is playing their first gig tomorrow night. Steve asked me to produce a logo for the band, so he could surprise them with t-shirts. He told me not to spend more than 30 minutes on it ... so this is what they got. What do you think? Simple, graphic, to-the-point ... and it only took me 13 minutes, half of which was spent selecting a font.

September 21

We had a few hours to kill this afternoon, so drove out to Fort Worth to the historic Stockyards. The rental car has a GPS system in it, which directed us back to the freeway via minor roads, where we spotted this abandoned building in a artistic state of decay.

September 20

Dallas, forgive me for all the mean things I said about you. I said you'd be full of big-haired women with caked-on makeup. I thought you'd be just as polluted as Los Angeles, but hotter and stickier. And worst of all, I thought there'd be nowhere for me to eat. No nice little vegetarian restaurants serving lentil burgers. Just rib joints on every corner, serving huge platters of meat, groaning with cholesterol.

Boy, was I wrong.

My hotel, the Melrose, seems to be in the gay part of town. Cool designer boutiques. Coffee shops with exclusively male clientiele. Condom stores. I feel perfectly safe walking the streets at night. There are THREE vegetarian restaurants within two blocks of here. And most of the rest of the neighbourhood eateries are "vegetarian-friendly", according to the concierge. I haven't tried any of them yet, though, because tonight I went for a walk and discovered ... drum roll ... EATZI'S. It's a bit like Whole Foods without the groceries, but much better. There were so many choices that I was dazzled, and ended up walking out with just a huge salad for five bucks. Tomorrow night I'll also get some teriyaki salmon, maybe.

Dallas, forgive me. I love you. I really, really do.

September 19

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm off to Texas and Ohio tomorrow for more press checks. Already I'm so lonesome I could cry.

September 18

September 17

She left on the five thirty train...
(a poem for Grandma)

Well the winds of change are blowing,
To help her to cross on.
I knew that she was going.
Now I know that she is gone.
I wished I'd said I love you,
Now I know, I can't.
Because the ship has left the harbour.
And the birds have left the park.

While she's flying up above us
While she's sailing out to sea...
I'm comforted, a piece of her
Still lives inside of me.

Written by Tui Cook 12/9/06

September 16

September 15

I just noticed that these bread rolls look a bit like boobs. How apropos.

September 14

I am really tired.

September 13

I am home. My head and heart are still very full of the emotions of the past two weeks. I'm feeling quiet and fragile and reflective. All of which is fine.

I still haven't really cried, so I know that day is coming, and will no doubt slam me unexpectedly at an inopportune time. Which is also fine.

I found it interesting that I had no desire to chronicle the process of Mum's death, or of my time with my family in Australia. It was too raw, too private, for even my own journal. The memories will stay or go, as they will.

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
(Christina Rossetti -- Song)

Daily art updates to resume tomorrow. I hope.

September 10

Helen Marie Clark
June 13 1932 — 10 September 2006
Rest in peace, Mama.

Today was one of the loveliest I've had in a long time. My siblings, nieces and I watched dawn strike the Brindabella Mountains from the window of Mum's hospital room, filled with a sense of happiness at her release. We ended the day sharing vegetarian tagine and couscous and champagne and precious memories of this woman who loved us so unreservedly through every day of our lives. I am so incredibly lucky to have had this past ten days -- and forty-six years -- with her. She taught me how to love.

An added bonus was meeting Alison today. Together with Rhea we walked the loop to Hermione's bench, on which we are sitting here. I learned a little of the life and heart of this gracious, wise and peaceful artist. Thank you for sharing, Alison. Let's do some more soon.